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mybumpbirthandbeyond · 1 year

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Head on Fire

I think everyone feels like my rehab is going really well from snippets I have shared, when in reality, I feel like the biggest fraud there is. I have high expectations of myself and I’m not even close to meeting them. It doesn’t even look or feel the same like it has before. Everyone is saying I’m doing amazing and I feel like running away and hiding because I feel like anything but. I know people might think I’m doing more than they would expect. But I guess like everything, it’s all relative. I was coming from a place of high function, and I want to get back to a place of high function. To me, this part where I’m starting out, is the part I want to get past to eventually reach my goals. It’s not my end game.

My surgeon deserves the wow factor reaction for what she has done. Éilís has done an incredible job and I can’t even react in a normal way because I feel anything but normal. I owe her far more than I’ve been able to offer and I’m gutted I can’t seem to show it. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m not happy with the result. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Part of it is actually that she has done such an unbelievable job that I can’t get my head around it. I always knew that she would do. It wasn’t even a consideration when I chose her; her skills as a surgeon were never in doubt. The fact that she ticked so many more boxes as well (which is an understatement) was an absolute bonus. Just like everyone else in my team, there just aren’t enough words to describe how amazing she is and how grateful I am. It’s one of many things I’m struggling with - I’m completely overwhelmed with gratitude and I don’t know how to say it or show it.

Surgery wasn’t about function for me and no promises can be made about function anyway. I had taken care of function with the help of my physios and had managed to achieve things I could never have imagined before pregnancy. I was the strongest version of myself before surgery. It was about aesthetics, yes, but it wasn’t just about that. It was about fixing what I couldn’t and never would have been able to fix on my own. Without realising, I think there was a naive part of me that thought validating how bad my diastasis was, would let me off the hook. That I would give myself a break for failing to do what I set out to 4 years ago. I always knew surgery was my only option and I was happy with that, but it’s maybe another factor.

In my most recent physio consult, I demonstrated a few exercises so we could try a few things. At the point I took my top off so they could see my tummy as I did the exercises, Antony said, “who’s that girl with the flat tummy?” Without even missing a beat, I responded: “I don’t know her either.” And it couldn’t be truer. I’m walking around going through the motions, but I don’t feel like myself or feel like I know the person walking around looking like me. It’s like I’m watching it all happen from a distance outside my body wondering when I’m going to rejoin reality again. I wish I could explain myself to the 3 people that matter most in this.

I’m getting frustrated with myself. I’m impatient to deal with whatever is going on and not be in this weird place where I can’t even describe how I’m feeling - let alone get over it. People are probably getting sick of me saying it. I’ve spoken to one person who got it and she said it took her 6 months. I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes me 6 months as well. Whilst I would do anything to feel better before then, I just have a feeling I’m in this place for a bit longer. I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know how I am going to feel better because I don’t know what I need. Time? Space? A good cry? Scream? I can’t even bury myself in my rehab like I normally would. It’s the strangest feeling to know you don’t feel yourself and you feel you have every reason to be happy and grateful, but you have no idea why you feel so out the game and don’t know how to fix it. It’s exhausting. I’m completely drained and depleted by the whole thing.

Someone messaged me to say maybe I was grieving. Maybe. I’ve experienced a lot of grief in my life from tragedies, but while I could relate to going through the motions and putting a face on it, this feel different. Maybe it’s a different form of grief 🤷🏽‍♀️

I’ve been massively guilty of kicking the can down the road. I’ve pushed my feelings about my diastasis aside, thrown myself into exercise and training each time, and just focused on the next thing: pregnancy; postpartum; surgery. I somehow became an agony aunt for everyone else and their feelings about their diastasis and I pushed my own feelings further and further away. I was happy to be someone people could message, because I know how difficult it is not having that someone you know with it; to have someone who understands how you feel and what you’re going through (on top of being a mum). And maybe on some level, I was happier to deal with everyone else’s feelings instead of my own.

The first time I didn’t even contemplate not improving it. I committed myself completely to doing everything and anything possible to change it and I was relentless. I made progress and that became addictive, so I trained harder and got stronger. While I wasn’t back to where I wanted to be and I knew my story would end up with surgery, I knew I was in the best position I could be for pregnancy number two.

I continued training right up to 38 weeks pregnant and had my daughter at 39 weeks. Two weeks later I was back at it. Resigned to the fact I was back at the bottom of the mountain with another long, hard climb up ahead. At the top would be surgery, and finally, a resolution to the last 4 years. It *should* be all downhill from there.

The year leading up to surgery - frustrated with lack of aesthetic progress, and being kept out of the gym by repeated illness; feelings came to the surface that I had worked so hard to bury. I have always bottled things up. Even when I lost my Dad at 14, there was a marked difference between how my mum and sister dealt with it, and how I dealt with it. I am my Dad’s daughter in almost every way. I became an adult overnight and skipped those typical teenage years. With my diastasis, training had been my therapy. I could work through the feelings and frustrations related to my diastasis with exercise. When I couldn’t exercise and have that outlet, I was in such a dark place.

The milestones post op at 2 weeks then 6 weeks flew past and went so much better than I expected. Rehab however, is not what I expected. And I can’t explain how I’m feeling so rehab is not giving me the same therapy it was before. I joked in my consult: “A psychologist would have a field day with me right now.”

I just have to accept that the scars that this experience has given me are more significant than the physical one I bear from surgery. I’m my harshest critic and I’m very hard on myself. I can’t help it - I’ve always been this way. I’m trying not to be, and to give myself the space and time I clearly need, but it’s not easy. I feel like I’m letting people down. I feel like I haven’t reacted as I should have to the most incredible result which has blown others away just as much as it has blown me away. And I can’t do a damn thing about it.

My feelings on sharing what I’m doing for rehab are mixed. Like everything else, it’s a snippet of what’s going on. There’s a lot more to it than what I share and sometimes I wonder if it creates the wrong impression. I have always shared an honest account from the beginning and that will always, ALWAYS be the case. Far too much of social media is through rose tinted glasses or filters. I’m just not that person and clearly, no filter in the world would have helped I used to look anyway 😂 Equally, there are a lot of people who might find it helpful. The guidance on this area is next to none and while I would never advocate anyone just doing as I’m doing without seeing someone qualified to advise them; once again, in my story it might be an example of being more capable than you think, while following the guidance of health professionals.

Every day I hope things will become clearer. That a bit more of the fog will lift and I will feel more like me again. It hasn’t happened yet and I don’t know when it will. I wish more than anything I could get an answer to the why. Why am I feeling like this, and what can I do to fix it? I’m so delighted with the result. It’s more than I could have dreamed of, but why does it feel almost hollow right now? I don’t think it’s just any one thing. It feels like it must be everything: like rehab; where I’m currently at function wise; the way that I now look and so many other things.

People won’t understand and that’s completely fine - I don’t understand myself, so I can’t expect anyone else to. I could never have predicted that having the surgery I had thought about multiple times a day for almost a year would leave me feeling confused. I feel like I’m absolutely over the moon, but I’m still just hovering in space on the other side, drifting. Any time Mission Control wants to intervene though and bring me back down to Earth, I’m more than ready 😂

#mybumpbirthandbeyond #diastasisrecti #postpartumrecovery #pelvichealthphysio #postpartumbody #pelvichealth #postpartum #abdominoplasty #plasticsurgery #diastasisrectirepair

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theredconversegirl · 3 years

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Sneaking Out | Ficlet 🍅🌸

Hey there,

Hope everyone is doing well! 💕

I’m sharing a little something that came into mind when I saw this au name on twitter last night. 😁 I hope some ss fluff helps warm your day/night! 💜

~Happy Reading!

Title: Sneaking Out Rated T Summary: all the characters live in the same building au / blank period / mostly dialogue / fluff & slice of life.

Links: Fanfiction | ao3 ——————————————————————————

When the "temporary" settlements are taken down, sixteen months post-war, and most of her friends end up moving to the same apartment complex, Sakura realizes it will be a lot more difficult to sneak out for the usual late night make-out sessions.

"We need a plan," Sasuke says after she confides her concerns to him that night.

He hasn’t noticed the changes – because a) he doesn’t care about people, b) he was away for quite some time, and c) he doesn’t really care – but she had. Every day there’s someone moving in and every day more familiar faces greet her when she’s leaving or arriving at her apartment.

"It shouldn't be as complicated as you think it will be." He tells her as though her worry is unwarranted. “We just need to use our skills; we are shinobi.”

"And so are all tenants from the 3rd to the 10th floor."

Sasuke sits down on her secondhand couch and sighs. “I can walk up the outer wall and get to your window."

"As romantic as it sounds Sasuke-kun, you could be easily spotted." The disbelieving look in his mismatched eyes prompted her to continue. "Masked chakra or not, someone could look out of the window or get on the balcony and see you.”

“Henge?”

Sakura snorts. “And that wouldn’t look suspicious at all.”

He glares at her and she glares right back. She gives up first, groaning as she starts to pace the room.

“Imagine the repercussions… we’d have to explain to Tsunade-shisou what you were doing climbing up a residential building wall late at night. You, Uchiha Sasuke, ex missing nin who spent the last four years plotting revenge—”

“Tch, I get it.” Sasuke averts his eyes, but doesn’t look fazed by the touchy subject. “You could take the stairs up to my place.”

“And risk bumping into someone?”

“Who takes the stairs when there’s that brand new metal box that takes everyone up and down here? It’s the first elevator in a non-governmental building and everyone wants to ride it.” He rolls his eyes and Sakura mirrors the action, because yeah, it’s ridiculous. They can do magic ninja stuff and people are excited by a mechanical thing that moves vertically.

“Well... Kakashi takes his sweet time climbing the stairs to his apartment. Lee says the additional exercise is a challenge. Tenten has to follow suit when he’s around. I saw Kiba taking the stairs with Akamaru once… I guess some people just don’t like the wait.” Sakura shrugs, not dismissing the idea entirely, just being realistic about the risks. “Besides, you wouldn’t want me bumping into Lee late at night.”

Sasuke frowns. “Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because…” Sakura trails off, the very valid reason she had vanishes at the sight of a jealous Sasuke.

He just… he looks so, so good when he’s confused and angry at the same time. His jaw ticks, his voice turns gruff, and that little pout that goes with the sullen glower completes the hottest bad boy look one can have. Why are they wasting time talking when they could be kissing? His conceited smirk snaps her out of her daze and she berates herself for falling for his trick – he knows how to distract her very well.

“Because he'd hog me until I allow him to walk me safely back to my door.”

Sasuke groans and lets his head fall on the pillow behind him. “I'll go down to you then, problem solved.”

“That could work, but we’d still risk Ino or someone from the hospital walking in on us.” He doesn’t say anything to that, but Sakura sees the question on his face from where she’s standing. “You haven’t been back long, so to put it simply, I’m needed in that hospital and they have the gift to need me when I’m off.”

Sakura watches with a satisfied grin as Sasuke’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He looks at her with respect and curiosity... And damn, forget about the bad boy thing because this makes her tremble with anticipation. That look is everything she’s ever wanted.

“You're my teammate.”

“Your female teammate, the one who has had a, uh, crush on you since forever. Stop smirking! The entire village knows.”

Sasuke cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you loved me.”

Did he just… goad her on? The bastard has the nerve to puff up his chest and look smug while saying that.

“That’s too personal!” Sakura hides her pink cheeks when she twirls around and resumes her pacing. When she completes a full circle, their eyes meet and she sighs. “Yeah, yeah, they know.”

Three circles later, Sakura has an a-ha moment and asks, “Are you good at teleporting yet?”

After Sasuke’s recovery and his brief trial that led to the end of the council, the Hokage authorized the Rinnegan research. Kakashi and Sasuke have been training together every other day since. Sasuke’s stamina is building up to a point he’s not completely exhausted after using his new ocular powers.

Sasuke’s mood changes immediately. The scowl on his face is telling and Sakura almost winces – he’s too proud to admit that he’s probably not quite there yet. Teleporting back and forth after training hours could drain him.

“What if,” Sakura says quickly, changing the subject. “What if we just don’t sneak out.”

“Then we won’t be spending time together?”

“But we do.”

“How so?”

“I mean what if we just don’t care if someone sees us going to each other’s apartments? We are two consenting adults and it’s none of their business anyway.” Sakura explains, chewing her bottom lip as she mulls over the various outcomes of not keeping their relationship a secret anymore.

It was not a premeditated decision to hide it in the first place. But when they have two loud-mouthed best friends, the news would blow up within hours and they just want some privacy.

It’s not like they’d be advertising their relationship or anything. And who cares if nosy people gossip about it? The only thing that matters is that they are together (and ridiculously in love).

“You know what, this won’t keep me away from you.”

“Oh yeah? You're going to forgo any social etiquette just to have your way with me, huh?”

“As if you'd complain!” Sakura scoffs and crosses her arms. “If I don’t do that, you will. And you know why? Because you’d miss me.”

Sasuke snorts but she pays no heed to it; she knows he would never admit to that if asked. And, she can see the blush creeping up the side of his neck and the tip of his ears. Adorable.

“You’d miss me and these sugar lips.” She swipes her tongue across her mouth and notices how his eyes darken, following the movement. “Tell me I’m lying.”

When he stands up, rather abruptly for a human but not for a shinobi, she’s forced to take a step back and crank her neck up to look at him. Sakura’s still not used to this Sasuke, tall and broad, who towers over her.

“Come here, sugar lips.”

He speaks with a rough, low voice, and what’s supposed to be seductive and hot-hot-hot, makes her giggle instead. Even though Sasuke’s just repeating her own words to annoy her, that’s something she’s never expected to hear.

“I can’t believe you said that. Uchiha Sasuke—”

“Shut up.”

—called me-mmph!”

He kisses her silly that night – and all the other nights that follow – putting to rest all her doubts and worries, because he does miss her and no neighborhood gossip will keep them apart.

#theredconversegirl writes #SasuSaku #ss fic #sneaking out #all the characters live in the same building au #some fluff

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persephone-is-here-omg · 3 years

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Part of the Job.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Reader.

Warnings: Smut. Oral, female receiving, slight choking, fingering, teasing. Alcohol.

Word Count: 4059.

Rating: 18+.

Masterlist.

More Bruce Wayne bullshit, hoes. And watch your backs, because if I give into the idea I have there’s gonna be a Bucky Barnes/Bruce Wayne/Reader fic coming your way and you won’t know what hit you.

"Bruce Wayne" The gruff voice at the other end of the line says as you examine the boutique box that had just been delivered at your door.

"Hey... Uhm... I think you sent a dress or something by mistake to my place" You say prodding him for information, but you know is not a mistake.

"Not by mistake, we have something to do tonight and I need you to wear that dress" Bruce informs you of your plans and you can't help but nod slowly, even though he can not see you do it.

"So, what if I have plans tonight?" You tease, hardly containing the glee in your voice "Maybe dinner or something, probably with a guy you wouldn't like"

If you had Bruce in front of you, you know you'd see him frown for a moment, just a short little second, then he'd look at you with those clear blue eyes of his, face completely neutral "I know you don't have any plans"

"You know, is kinda rude of you to just dispose of my time like this" You keep teasing, just pushing a little more.

"You knew what you were getting into and it didn't stop you. I'll be there at nine tonight" He says and hangs up.

You giggle and bite your lip, staring at the box still closed on your bed. You haven't even opened it yet, not that you don't trust Bruce's taste, you just wanted to give him shit about it first. You tell yourself he probably knows the sizes of every person that's ever come into his proximity, but still a part of you preens with pride at the idea of having so much of his atention. Not that you would ever admit it to him.

You open the box and look at the dress, is nice. Is a really nice dress, black with delicate beading details that make a swirling pattern on the sides, a deep v in the front that shows quite a bit of cleavage is kept together by a sheer mesh panel. When you turn it around you can see the low back and how the skirt is slightly longer at the back.

You jump, a few hours later, as you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy black towel and find Bruce seated on the armchair in your room “God damn it” You mutter “What are you doing here so early?”

“Does the dress fit?” He asks, his intense gaze fixed on you.

Holding the towel tight around you and narrowing your eyes “You know it does and that is weird”

Bruce raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth raised just the tiniest bit “Is it?” The rest of the sentence is left unsaid, but you know what he's thinking about.

You roll your eyes “Where are we going, anyway? That you need me to dress like a showgirl”

“Remember that arms dealer I had been trailing?”

You nod.

“He frequents a clandestine casino, here, in Gotham. We are going there tonight” Bruce explains, fixing his tie.

“Oh, so we're wasting money tonight?”

“Mainly. There's some illegal fighting, too but I’ll only fight if I have to. They have a strict dress code, hence, the dress” He looks at you intently, then adds “You should wear that black coat over it. Is cold outside”

“Okay, daddy” You answer in a sarcastic tone “Now… Can you give me some space?”

The corner of his mouth lifts almost imperceptibly in amusement and you can almost hear his thoughts, then he stands and walks pass you and out of the room “Don’t take too long”

The door closes after Bruce and you walk towards your dresser, pull on a pair of panties and then sit down and start to get your makeup done, then your hair. Finally you put on the dress, paired with black, high heeled shoes and the coat Bruce suggested.

Bruce’s back is to you as you come out and clear your throat “I’m ready” You stand there as he turns around, his eyes moving slowly down your body, taking you in.

"Perfect" He says and walks over to you "Let's go"

Bruce opens the passenger side door for you and you look at him with a tilted head as he gets on the opposite side "I thought Alfred would be driving"

"Alfred's busy tonight"

"Busy, huh?" You nod and watch as he starts the car with calculated moves "And what did he say about my stitches?"

"He said you did a marvelous job" You beam at the praise "Thinks you should patch me up more often"

"He does?"

"Is what he said" Bruce counters and then starts driving.

Silence extends between the two of you as your eyes watch the city lights pass you by, then you turn your head and look at Bruce, see his eyes dart from the road to you, see his hand tighten on the gear shift. You realize you are going out of the city.

"So, B" You start and he turns his face again towards you, you know he wants to tell you not to call him 'B' he also knows you're not going to stop "What made you pick this dress? But, more importantly, can I keep it?"

"Is a nice dress and is yours" He answers, simply, to the point.

"I know is a nice dress, Bruce" You tilt your head and lean closer to him "But why did you pick it for me?"

Bruce drives out of the road and looks at you, one hand on the steering wheel and another on the gear shift "I knew it would look good on you and would fit into the place we're going" His knuckles are white, as if he's holding back from something, he lets go of the gear shift and places his hand around your neck loosely "And I like how you look in it, very much" He lets go of your neck and starts driving again, you squirm in your seat, bite your lip and take a deep, shaky breath, let your head rest against the seat.

You cross and then uncross your legs and Bruce grips your thigh firmly "Stop" He kneads your thigh but doesn't add anything else, his hand moves slowly up your thigh and stops right under the hem of your dress.

Bruce moves his hand back onto the gear shift and you turn your face to look at him, watch the tick in his jaw, think about telling him to park somewhere and just fuck you already, is what you both want. But you know Bruce and know he won't do it, he'd tell you to focus on tonight's mission and that you should take this as an exercise in delayed gratification.

About twenty minutes later, he parks outside a rather inconspicous building, a man you assume works security approaches the car as Bruce rolls down the window on his side. He hands the man a small, black card and then the man steps back, Bruce gets out of the car and walks over to your side, opens the door for you and offers his hand for you take as you step out of the car. His hand finds the small of your back and you can feel how his thumb moves in a slow motion over your coat as he hands the keys of the car and guides you towards the door.

Once inside a very young girl takes your coats and Bruce's hand is back on your back, his skin is warm on yours, his hand is rough and calloused, and he guides you towards a poker table. When Bruce sits down you lean over his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth, it's a show after all and in this show, that's your part to play "I'll go get a drink, do you want something?"

He nods takes a moment to think and then says "Scotch, no ice, please"

You walk away towards the bar, order red wine for you and scotch for Bruce, then head back to the table. You hand the glass to Bruce and stand right behind his chair, a hand casually draped over his shoulder as the game unfolds in front of you. Your fingers find their way into the hair at the nape of Bruce's neck, you start to play with it distractedly as you keep your eyes open, roaming around the room, locating possible way outs and security personel. You lean in again and whisper in Bruce's ear, pointing out all the possible exits, a flirty smile on your face as you explain to him. Your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Bruce smiles, that cocky self-satisfied smile, the one from the tabloids and magazines. After a while, and after loosing a considerable amount of money and gaining some back, Bruce stands up and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, lips brushing against the corner of your jaw, you smile and caress his hair.

"Lets go to the bar" Bruce directs "That's our guy" He has his arm around a girl that doesn't quite look of legal age and you turn to Bruce, almost as if he can read your mind he adds "I know. All these girls are way too young. We'll deal with it"

You make your way to the bar and sit on a stool, Bruce stands behind you, arms caging you in with your front to the bar, his lips meet your skin right at the point where your neck and shoulder meet, one of his hands moves down to your thigh and again the calloused pads of his fingers move up, stopping at the hem of your dress making your breath hitch "Focus" He whispers, but you know that he knows it is impossible for you to do that when he's touching you like that, it almost feels like this isn't part of facade. The bartender comes and Bruce orders the same two drinks. The guy sitting a couple of stools away turns to look at Bruce.

"Are you betting only?" He says and you follow Bruce's gaze toward him.

"So far, but I've heard about the fights" He sounds exactly as he should, too much money, too much time.

The guy smirks "You don't look like you need the money"

"I don't need the money" Bruce confirms "But I would enjoy a fight, work some stress off"

You know he can perfectly handle the kind of fighting that takes place here, but you still play up your part " Are you sure?"

He nods, starts walking and takes the jacket and tie off, handing them to you, then rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbows and steps into the circle of people. He stands in the middle for a while and your gazes cross, then his oppenent walks in and the fight starts. Bruce dodges some hits and lets others land, if he wanted to this fight would be over already, but he's supposed to be playing the bored billionaire in search of some adrenaline. So he allows it to continue, even crashing against the onlookers a few times. It comes a point, though, where you can tell he's done with the game. There's a bruise blooming around one of his eyes and a small cut on his lower lip, he manages to make it look like something completely fortitous, but you know better, when he knocks his opponent out and gives you the smallest of smirks.

Bruce takes his tie and places untied around his neck, the jacket is drapped over his arm as he steers you towards the door "Lets get out of here" His hand rests just above your ass, his fingers spread wide, it reminds of just how big his hands are. The same girl that took your coats gives them back and as you step out the door the car stops right in front of you.

The drive back into the city is not really going back into the city, is towards Wayne Manor you realize. You don't say anything, instead let the anticipation course through your body, fill you with a buzzing energy that almost makes you shiver and your skin breaks out in goosebumps. Bruce steers right into the tunnel that leads to the cave, he drives as if he's in the other car, takes his curves really close and if it was anyone else you might get nervous but not with him. He parks seamlessly and perfectly and your door is open even before the car is fully parked. Your heel touches the ground and you're out as soon as it stops moving, you push the door closed without looking behind you, trying to give you time to get a hold of yourself.

You can hear Bruce's steps behind you, he's purposely keeping his distance, you stop in front of the computer, roll your neck and feel him cage you against the desk. He says nothing, he doesn't touch you, just stands there waiting until you turn around to face him. The space between you feels electric, buzzing with that undefinable energy right before something happens. Is in these moments that you realize just how tall he is, how big he is, you look up at him and he hauls you onto the desktop, sets you down on it and kisses you right away, his hand cups your jaw, it does it in that way that leaves no doubt who's the one in charge here. You like it. He uses his other hand to push your coat down, you pull your arms free and wrap them around his neck, move down his chest and undo the buttons of his shirt, pull it free from his slacks and place them on the broad span of his chest.

Bruce pushes the straps of your dress down your arms, until your breasts are exposed and your nipples harden against the chilly air of the cave, his hands move towards your chest and cup your boobs. His thumbs circle your nipples and your back arches in response, you want to be closer to him with as little space possible between you, but he keeps his distance, watches your face intently.

"What?" You say, trying to hide the vulnerability in your voice. How exposed you feel when he looks at you like that.

Bruce moves one hand back to your jaw, makes sure you hold his gaze as he says "I like watching you. I like that little crease between your brows when you try to guess what I’m thinking" Then he's kissing you again, hard and hungry, teeth grazing your lower lip, his tongue slips inside your mouth and it feels all consuming. The kisses move to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest, his lips close around your nipple and Bruce sucks on it until it’s hard and aching, making your back arch, your nails dig on the exposed skin of his arms. He moves to the other side and this time bites the underside of your breast, moving in tandem as he tugs the skirt of your dress up, over your hips.

He uses both hands to rip your panties off, first one side then the other the sound reverberates through the cave and, after he's done, Bruce pulls them away and stuffs them inside the pocket of his pants. You feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that drives you wild, as you watch Bruce come down in front of you, between your thighs, your skin prickles with anticipation.

You shiver under the intensity of Bruce's gaze, unwavering as he looks at your face for a few seconds. Then his lips graze your thigh, is feather light at first, goosebumps break on your skin and you bring your hands to the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly. He sinks his teeth on the inside of your thigh and you hiss, it stings enough for you to know that it will leave a mark that will in time turn into a bruise. You bury one of your hands in his hair "B-Bruce" You stutter, feeling him move closer to your core "Oh, my God. You're enjoting this too much" You can't hear him, but you see his shoulders shake and narrow your eyes, open your mouth to give him some witty, smartass response but it dies before it even forms as his lips come into contact with your sex. A gasp comes out of you instead.

"Fuck" You breath. Bruce grasps your thighs and pulls you forward, to the edge of the desk. His tongue darts between your folds, following the edges of your slit, swirling around your clit. You close your hand around Bruce's dark hair and moan, long and drawn. His tongue delves inside you, then his lips close around your clit and suck. You toss your head back "Fuck" You repeat, he's reduced your vocabulary to one word and you can't form a complete thought, not when he is between your legs, face buried in you, lips pressed against your most intimate parts. You feel it start on your toes, that warm coil that tightens the more he works on you, feel it start to tug and tug, slowly at first, then all of a sudden until it releases and you cry out, thighs trembling, hands both pushing him away and holding him in place. Bruce works you through it, doesn't stop when you're coming down, he lets go of your thighs and stands up, brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them.

You follow his hand with your eyes, barely register when he says "I didn't even had to wet my finger, you're so slick" His fingers circle your clit and make you jump, still reeling from your previous orgasm. The way he says it is almost mocking, it really just makes you want to slap him.

"G-god I hate you" You groan as he thrusts two of his fingers inside you and his shoulders shake almost silently again, moving in and out, scissoring and hooking. You move your hand to his sides and dig your nails in Bruce's skin, making him hiss, but it only makes him focus more on making you cum again, not that is going to take long. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you can feel how the orgasm builds deep in your belly. He curls his fingers once more, flicks your clit with his thumb again and you're cumming hard, letting your head fall into his shoulder, eyes closed tight and toes curling. He kisses the side of your head and you turn your face to kiss him, move your arms around his neck again, then drag them down his chest and drag your nails over his absm leaving red, angry marks in your wake.

You undo the button on his slacks, pull the zipper down and push your hand inside his boxers, wrap it warm and soft around his cock, keep your eyes fixed on his face, the way Bruce's mouth twitches as he groans your name, and pushes his pants and underwear down, just past his ass, leaving with more than enough space to move your hand up and down his cock. He groans your name again.

Bruce grasps your thighs once more, lowers his gaze and looks at your hand around his cock for a moment, until he decides it's been enough. He lets go of your thigh and instead wraps that hand around your neck firmly "Go on, guide me inside you" He orders, always in control.

You do as he says and drag the tip of Bruce's cock inside you, your mouth agape as he fills you inch by inch. You cling to his sides again as he makes you hold his gaze, he pulls back halfway in, then starts thrusting inside once again, until he’s buried deep inside you. Bruce stays like that, then grinds against you, making you gasp against his lips.

Bruce's hand is still firm around your throat when he starts moving, is a pace right in the middle, not too slow and not too fast, just in control. Always in control. He grinds into you every time he bottoms out, makes you gasp and dig your nails deeper on his sides. He doesn't let go of your neck, keeps you looking at his face. You move your hands down and grab Bruce's ass tightly, moan against his lips as he kisses your lips and thrusts harder. He reaches so deep into you it is hard to breath. Bruce leans over you as you let go of his ass and hold your weight on your elbows as he takes a nipple into his mouth, your walls clench around him and a moan of his name tumbles through your lips, you cross your ankles behind his back and whine "Please, please" That voice is almost unrecognizable to you, its small and pleading, makes your cheeks burn.

Bruce envelopes you with his arms, tightly secured around your waist and lifts you from the desk, there is a squeal and then a moan when he thrust hard, then he's sitting down on the chair and his hands are gripping your hips, encouraging you to move and ride him. You oblige, there's no way you could say no, not when you're on edge and he refuses to look at anything else but you.

One of your hands is on his shoulder and the other grips the back of the chair so tight, somewhere in the back of your mind you think your nails will tear the leather, but your hips move above him, you ride Bruce fast and hard, chasing after your third orgasm of the night, the sound of your skin against his resonates through the cave and comes back to both of you, filling the space between his growls and your moans, his grunts and your whines. He wraps his arms around your waist again and for a moment you think he will stand up again, but instead he holds you in place and kisses your shoulder, your neck, bites your skin the feeling of his teeth marking you makes you shiver in his arms, makes your hips buck wildly of their own accord and as he chases and catches your lips, Bruce thrusts up into you, holding in you in place with his arms around you, he kisses you deep and thoroughly, all tongue, teeth and wild need. You're so close to each other his pelvic bone drags against your clit every time he moves, heightening every sensation and when he buries a hand in your hair and tugs the fire consumes, it wreaks havoc through your entire body as you cum, arching your back and eyes watering as your walls tighten around his cock velvet fist like. The look on your face, the goosebumps on your skin are enough to trigger Bruce's own orgasm. His name tumbles from his lips in a raspy, deep tone, you tremble in his arms but he holds you tight in place, balls deep inside you, his cum warm inside you.

You both pant as you get your breaths back, Bruce rests his forehead against your chest and you play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel his semen starting to leak out of you and believe he will pull out of you and let you stand. He does pull out of you, but he keeps you there, watches as his cum drips out slowly, then gathers some of it on his fingers and brings it to your mouth. You open obediently and suck on his fingers, moaning around his fingers, until they're clean, then he kisses your lips, a growl deep within his chest as he tastes both of you in your mouth.

"Fuck" He curses looking at you "I can't keep you out of my head, I can't keep my hands off of you"

He always says this, it almost sounds as if he is chiding himself for it, for not keeping it 'professional' but the truth is you don't want him to.

And you say as much "Then don't. I don't want you to"

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x you #my big bad furry #batman fic #bruce wayne fic #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #don't judge me #i have no self control when it comes to bruce wayne #and i won't even try

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wings-of-a-storm · 3 years

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Alrighty lovely peeps, here is the final part of my thoughts on Victor’s infamous ‘love-triangle’ journey in episodes 9-10 (and why the undercurrent is full of Benji).

MOURNING A LIFE WITH A LOVER ALMOST LOST: HURT AND ANGER

Our first understanding of how Victor is holding up in episode ten is through the visual of the wedding invitation he is holding. It’s a very strong visual with so many connotations -- weddings are romantic, full of love and celebration, and most importantly a lifelong commitment to a loved one. That is Victor’s dream too and one he was working hard on (not necessarily a marriage but certainly a life-long commitment). But the person he wants to work on that commitment with isn’t talking to him and quite likely easing them into a separation.

What is even more of a mockery is the envelope -- Victor and Benji’s names are printed together in gorgeous cursive, like they are a team, a unit, a done deal. It’s almost like how their own wedding invitation might look, if they ever wanted to have one. But it is a dream that only exists on a piece of paper right now.

It is clear in this scene that Victor is feeling a mix of three things: sad, hurt, and anger. The anger is quite clear when he puts the invitation aside with the shake of his head. He’s angry that Benji ditched the wedding commitment last minute, yes, but no doubt a lot of that anger is born from how hurt he is that Benji is seemingly giving up on them. A glance at his unanswered message to Simon where he says something similar confirms it.

This anger is channeled into a practical matter -- the etiquette faux pas of being a last-minute wedding guest now messing up catering. Victor needs to find a substitute plus one (which to be honest feels like a plot device but shh). Enter Rahim, sans Pilal. Once again, Rahim is a welcome friend that Victor knows he will have fun with, be comfortable around, and more importantly experience a nice distraction with again.

Fast-forward to the next key scene, for me: Victor’s fascinating response to hearing Harold’s and Veronica’s wedding vows. Which brings me to:

VICTOR’S DESPERATION FOR SOMEONE TO LOVE HIM ENOUGH TO FIGHT / BUILDING A SAFETY NET P2

Guess what themes happen to be in the wedding vows Victor hears? A) Fighting for a relationship you love. B) Not giving up on someone in the tough moments.

“I know there will be tough days but it's on those days that I vow to love you the hardest” / “I vow to always remember that we are worth fighting for. Forever. No matter what.”

Gee, what an extraordinary coincidence!

And what does Victor do in response to hearing a loving couple voice his own feelings and goals? He looks at Rahim. Or rather, to Rahim. He knows Rahim is a romantic (like himself and Benji are), so he knows Rahim would share those goals too. And Rahim certainly is transfixed by the vows, very much feeling their sentiments too.

Rahim just ticked a box Victor is currently desperate for: someone who looks like they value fighting to beat the odds for the person they love, unlike what Benji is seemingly doing. Victor can project that onto Rahim. In reality, there is no way of knowing what Rahim would actually do in a relationship, but he feels safe right now.

It rather feels like VIctor was trying to distance himself from Benji in that moment and find a sanctuary with someone else who would give him the love and commitment he really needs right now. Like a protective, defense mechanism. He is so terrified that Benji has reached his limit of fight; that this time their argument and Victor’s breach of trust pushed Benji too far and Victor will end up severed from him and alone. With each hour Victor is closer to processing the end of that relationship and is now trying to put up a shield to block the impending tsunami of pain that he really doesn’t want to be hit by.

BENJI MAKES HIS OWN VOW

Victor doesn’t know it yet but we, the audience, get a hint of good news: the romantic vow exchange cuts to Benji staring at a picture of Victor on instagram, clearly missing him. From that piece of storytelling timing, we know what that probably means… (Flashback please to Benji’s declaration of “I don’t think I could give up on you. Even if I wanted to.”)

Benji is fighting. Or trying to.

What seals the deal is the beautiful conversation Isabel has with him -- her promise that Victor adores him and that Victor did actually stand up for Benji to the point of impressing her with his moxy. For a lot of the season, that is so much of what Benji needed -- to know he was worth standing up for, fighting for. Gee, what a familiar theme…

The next time we see Benji, he has come to the wedding reception, after his shift, as Victor’s belated plus one. His appearance symbolizes a promise, a vow of his own that is yet to be said out loud: that he is committed to fighting for their relationship to work.

I found that a really nice piece of storytelling -- that Benji is linked to the wedding vows at Brasstown and then fulfils them (or at least will try to make the sentiment a reality as best he can).

VICTOR’S CROSSROAD

Unfortunately for Benji, Victor does feel a connection with Rahim. New friendship is exciting and thrilling on its own let alone having the opportunity to suddenly slow dance with that person. Lines can get blurred. Plus the atmosphere is completely romantic and Victor has never had the opportunity to experience this particular romantic act before.

Victor and Rahim spend quite some time staring deep into each other’s eyes without even saying a word to interrupt the Moment. Because it is a legitimate moment of intimacy between the two. Which is exactly why Victor doesn’t stop immediately and run straight to Benji as soon as he notices Benji has come to see him. His head is still half in the Moment and it is tricky to extricate himself from Rahim.

That Moment is also why Victor doesn’t keep chasing Benji through the yard after Benji sasses him with his ‘Sure, Jan’ energy after Victor insists Rahim is just a friend.

Consciously Victor thinks he is telling the truth, but his “That was crazy, I’m not allowed to have a friend?” defense had the same energy as S1 Benji’s “I know I didn’t do anything wrong when you kissed me!” before scuttling his ass out of Brasstown with all of his belongings. Hello guilt.

The question is how much is Rahim a friend-cum-something-more. Which is the crossroad Victor finds himself at when Rahim confesses his feelings and kisses him.

We have Rahim who confessed so sweetly and endearingly, who at this moment is comfort and warmth and safety because Rahim isn't going to break up with Victor any time soon. And whom Victor does feel a connection with.

And we have Victor’s relationship with Benji which feels like a dying ember, especially now that Benji is even more furious at Victor and it will be a very hard battle to win him back around again. It won't be a romantic running into each other's arms moment if they were to reunite…

So Victor has a dilemma to figure out now in Mia’s room: does he fight a very hard uphill battle with Benji to win him over (a fight filled with inevitable painful emotions being unleashed), or does he just let it go since that appears to be the trajectory for them... Or does he try exploring things with Rahim where there is a 100% success rate guaranteed in the short-term if he accepts Rahim’s declaration…

If the big theme of this episode is vowing to love someone on their tough days and committing yourself to a relationship worth fighting for (something Victor had been obsessing over even before he heard the wedding vows), it would feel like a strange conclusion for Victor to choose Rahim over the partner who proved he was mutually willing to fight for their relationship against the odds, especially when they have already been tested through tough times and found their way through. (And of course Felix’s visualisation exercise would have reminded Victor of all the qualities he loves about Benji...)

THE WINK OF VICTOR’S PARENTS’ PARALLEL

And finally we have the culmination of an underlying parallel: Victor's parents’ relationship, which also slips into the theme of those wedding vows.

Isabel and Armando, the high school sweethearts who were stuck in a cycle of fighting, fore-sake choosing a new partner with less baggage and instead make the choice to get back together. This doesn’t influence Victor’s decision because he doesn't know about his parents’ progress yet but we, the audience, do know. We can see the underlying parallel there. They are making it work, so so too can Victor and Benji if they keep putting the work in to understand each other better and learn how to communicate.

But that’s just my take on ep 10.

#Love Victor #LV appreciation post #Venji #I promise to never write anything this long again XD #LV S2 analysis

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geekgirles · 3 years

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Full Disclosure

“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”

In which Sam and Valerie clear the air between them.

Word count: 5176

READ ON AO3

Before we go in, I just wanted to say that I hope I did the characters justice. Really, it’s all I ask because I’m still fairly recent in the fandom (as in, actively participating rather than fangirling on my own) and I’d hate to make a travesty of characters that mean so much to me. Oh, and this one-shot can take place in whatever timeline you want: you hate PP with a passion? Don’t worry, it didn’t happen. You actually think it’s a good finale? That works too. There shouldn’t be anything that indicates this story takes place in anywhere in particular other than Amity Park, so... All you need to know is that Valerie knows.

Please, enjoy!!

As an intense throb manifested itself in her right side, eliciting an involuntary groan to escape her throat, Sam was more frustrated at herself than aching from the hit. It had been two years already since Danny had the accident that gave him his powers, consequently beginning the constant battles against ghosts that made their teenaged life significantly harder, and, as they came to appreciate their lifestyle, significantly more interesting, too. Once Danny gained his ghost powers, she and Tucker took it to themselves to make sure their friend was always supported and aided when fighting his ghostly adversaries.

And with that came the injuries.

They certainly didn’t get hurt as often or as gravely as Danny, since he was usually the one facing the mischievous spirits head-on, but they still had to get used to their own fair share of beatings. The teachers were understandably surprised when they effortlessly completed their first aid training in Health class.

All in all, Sam was used to getting hurt.

Which made the fact that Valerie had landed such a perfect kick that it literally left her breathless all the more humiliating.

Valerie Gray, a.k.a. the Red Huntress. Danny Phantom’s longtime pursuer and Danny Fenton’s one time girlfriend. The once popular girl was now their trustworthy ally. And, as much as Sam hated to admit it, she was thoroughly kicking her butt. Perhaps she should have expected as much from a ninth degree black belt.

“Had enough, Manson?” Valerie taunted with a raised eyebrow.

Getting up slowly, Sam sent her a smirk alongside a challenging, determined look. “Never.” And with that she leaped on the ghost huntress, using her momentum to connect a punch to her face. But Valerie was faster, blocking the Goth girl’s attack with her forearm before sliding her leg under Sam’s to make her lose her balance. Seeing what her opponent was up to, the violet-eyed girl quickly got out of her way, widening the space between the two to give herself some time to think up a new strategy.

Smirking at Sam’s maneuver, Valerie appraised her with pride. “Not bad, Sam,” she said before changing her stance, ready to pounce, “but the extra space won’t save you from this.” Leaping into the air, the Red Huntress didn’t waste a moment to knock Sam to the floor with a roundhouse kick boosted by her movements.

Even if the Goth blocked the attack by keeping her palms up in front of her face, the sheer force behind it was still enough to knock her down. That was gonna bruise in the morning, she was sure of it. Glancing up she noticed Valerie looking down at her with a smug look on her face and her hands on her hips. Sam barely resisted the urge to scowl darkly at her. Panting, she conceded, “Alright, alright. Maybe now I’ve had enough.”

Chuckling at Sam’s proud nature, the green-eyed girl bent down slightly to offer her friend a hand and lift her up from the floor. Once Sam was at her eye-level, she looked down on her watch, now serving as a chronometre. “Five minutes. That’s a full round! Congratulations, Sam. So far, you’re the one who’s lasted the most against me.” She applauded her, but her face betrayed her. She was about to burst out laughing.

Snorting, the Goth girl elbowed her slightly on the arm. “Knock it off! Even if I lost, I still managed to land a few hits myself.”

“Yeah...Trust me, you don’t have to remind me.” Valerie complained with a pointed look as she rubbed her lower back. Early on in the match, Sam kneed her there. Thank goodness she wasn’t tasked with unloading the Nasty Burger’s products that week. “I’m serious, though. Danny without his powers lasts a minute and a half, tops. And Tucker...well, let’s just say that taking one hit without passing out is already a victory when it comes to him.”

“Yeah, he and Danny really should do more exercise.” The two girls laughed at that. These past two years Danny’s skill when using his powers had skyrocketed. Enemies that used to give him a hard time were now more of a headache. He didn’t even have to pay attention to the fight to get rid of the Ghost Box. Now, as Danny Fenton… He’d gotten taller, that was for sure. But he still had the nasty habit of relying on his powers a little too much, which didn’t do his P.E marks any favours. And Tucker was still far more interested in whatever his PDA had to offer than the wonders of physical exercise.

In truth, everyone had changed during that time, if only a little.

Sam was still as Goth and ultra-recyclo-vegetarian as always. Her raven hair was slightly longer, now reaching her shoulders, but she still wore it mostly loose and framing her face, except for the one strand she kept in a high ponytail. Her fashion sense hadn’t changed much either. She wore a black crop top with Danny’s logo on it instead of the old purple ovalーthe town began selling merchandise of its hero to attract, and basically rob, tourists. Since she created the logo herself, she made her own outfits and nobody was none the wiser. She also stuck with plaid skirts, but this time she favoured a purple and black one instead of her old black and green. But her combat boots, accessories, and make-up were sacred. Everybody knew impending doom was near if Sam ever changed even the tiniest detail in her appearance when it came to that.

She was still outspoken and an avid defender of animal rights, individuality, and most importantly, of Danny Phantom. Even though most people celebrated the boy and thanked him for his services, there were still some who criticised him and believed Amity Park was better off before him. Needless to say, Sam was always at the front of the line in any protest to defend Amity Park’s greatest protector. The fact that he was not only one of her best friends but also her boyfriend may have something to do with it. But even if they weren’t together, Sam knew Danny. She’d always known him. She would always defend him from those who couldn’t even begin to grasp just how noble, responsible, and compassionate he was.

The corners of her mouth curled up slightly when she remembered she’d just been sparring with what once was one of Danny Phantom’s greatest detractors.

In a way, Valerie had probably changed the most out of everyone she knew while simultaneously not changing anything at all.

In terms of appearance, just like Sam, she’d only modified her look slightly. She cut her long, dark brown curls so they now barely reached her shoulders instead of cascading down her back. According to her, long hair just got in the way with her suit. She originally wanted to get an undercut, but her dad almost had a cow so they compromised with short hair for now and leaving the undercut for when she was a little older. The huntress still favoured spaghetti-strapped yellow t-shirts, but now she completed her outfit with dark blue jeans or shorts (depending on the temperature) and white sneakers. She also dropped the headband due to her hair, but she kept the earrings.

The most obvious change, though, was that she was now an ally rather than an enemy after Danny Phantom’s head. Sam feared for the worst when Valerie found out her ex boyfriend was the very same ghost she’d vowed to destroy (could she really say she and Danny were exes, though? Sure, they went on a few dates and they genuinely liked each other, but Valerie pseudo-broke up with him right when he was about to ask her to make things official... Ugh, the wonders of the teenaged heart... Always bound to give her a headache. This is why she preferred her Goth indifference...most of the time). As much as they wanted to trust Valerie was going to be sensible about it, her track record wasn’t the best, forcing them to keep an eye out in case she decided to send her more positive opinion of Danny Fenton to Hell and shoot him with her ecto-bazooka.

Thankfully, one day Valerie just sat down with them at lunch, and when Danny tentatively asked her if they were okay, she just smiled and said, “We’re okay.” So they ate lunch in peace...until the Lunch Lady showed up and they had to send her back to the Ghost Zone. At least that time the Red Huntress was there to help them out. Ever since then, the girl sometimes fought alongside them, but for the most part she did her own thing.

And that was something about Valerie that hadn’t changed; her hatred of ghosts. Valerie was still hellbent on getting rid of all the spirits that haunted Amity Park, with half-ghosts being the sole exception ーexcept for Vlad, Valerie held a huge grudge against him for having used her as his pawn; not like the team could complain, they all hated Vlad, after all. And that made her ruthless, determined, brutal… More than once Danny had tried talking her out of her grudge against the paranormal, explaining to her that, albeit not as numerous as the troublemaking ghosts, there were still some that just wanted to be left alone. But Valerie would not budge. She believed all ghosts lacked the humanity and self-control necessary to resist whatever crazy obsession that tied them to our world and would eventually attack.

To Valerie, ghosts were ticking bombs.

Seeing as, so far, most ghosts they faced were malicious or seriously causing trouble, Tucker suggested they just let her be, but the moment she actually targeted an innocent ghost (say, Wulf), then they would have to get serious with her.

All in all, Valerie was their friend. A friend who had agreed to help her train so Danny wouldn’t have to worry so much about her safety when they were out fighting spectres. Not like he really needed to worry, she could take care of herself, but the more prepared they were, the better. And Valerie was helping her with that, and yet, the air still hadn’t been completely cleared between them.

As much as Sam would’ve loved cutting to the chase, a part of her still wasn’t prepared to address the elephant in the room. “Not gonna lie, Valerie, I wiー” she stopped mid-sentence. The last thing they needed was to have Desirée roaming free around Amity Park just because she hadn’t been careful with her words. Clearing her throat, she went on. “I mean, I would do anything for your fighting skills. You must have every ghost shaking in their boots...or whatever they have to shake in.”

As Sam sat down on the floor of her family’s private gym, which Valerie still couldn’t get used to being in, the green-eyed girl made her way to the other side of the room far away from the training tatami, where a middle-sized fridge was located. Pulling the door open, she grabbed two water bottles before going back to Sam. “Yeah, what can I say? I am pretty awesome.”

“And don’t forget modest.” Sam replied sarcastically.

“Girl, when you’re as good as me, you don’t need to pretend to be modest.” She joked as she handed Sam her own water bottle, which she accepted gratefully, before sitting down on the floor next to her. “Believe it or not, though, I became a ninth degree black belt long before I started hunting ghosts.” She looked at the floor, a pensive look on her face, “...we couldn’t have afforded the classes otherwise.”

Sam did her best to suppress the urge to do a spit-take at her words. Valerie almost never brought her financial situation up. The most she used to do was remember Danny why she hated him back when she still was after him, but the topic was dropped altogether once the secret was out. Looking around her ridiculously lavish house, Sam felt like facepalming herself. How could she have been so insensitive as to remind Valerie of the life she lost?!

“Valerie...I-I’m sorry. I should’ve told you to meet up at the park to train, but I…”

“Sam, don’t.” The huntress cut her off with a stern tone. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“But it was insensitive of me toー” Again, she was interrupted by Valerie, who silenced her by raising her palm up in front of her.

“Please, let me talk. You don’t have to apologise for anything because you’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll admit, it’s a bit paradoxical finding out that while I was mourning my losses you’d been hiding the fact that you’re stinking rich all along. But I’m not offended by it. Actually, I think I understand.”

“You do?” The Goth girl asked in disbelief, her eyes wide open.

The African-American girl just shrugged. “I think so. I didn’t realise it until my so-called friends kicked me out of the group, but having money attracts a lot of fakes and shallow people. People who’ll only be there when it’s convenient for them and who’ll throw you away like a used tissue the moment you have nothing else to offer. I know that better than anyone…” When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Sam smiling kindly at her, doing her best to get out of her comfort zone and offer her some comfort. She returned the smile. “Bottom line: you want real friends, so you never talk about your money ‘cause you don’t want to attract the wrong people. I get it.”

“You really do.”

“And I guess I’m also flattered.”

Sam blinked slowly at her. “Wow, Valerie. It usually takes a lot to take me by surpriseーwith the ghost fighting and allーand yet, here we are!”

The huntress just chuckled softly in response. “What I mean is that I understand that it takes you a lot to let people inーand quite literally tooーbut you still invited me. That means you must trust me, if only a bit.”

Sam couldn’t help but blush at her earnest words. It was true, wasn’t it? She trusted Valerie. She would have never invited her to her house if she didn’t. And, now that she thought about it, Valerie had to trust her too if she was willing to show her vulnerable side to her. Somehow, the thought made her smile. Knowing she would have to bring up uncomfortable topics soon, the violet-eyed girl decided to alleviate some of the tension first. “Well, I’m glad you could at least get your black belt first! Otherwise we would be in for a major asskicking from some ghosts.”

That comment actually made Valerie laugh. “Oh, hush, you flatterer! Or I’ll tell Danny his girlfriend has been hitting on me.” She could only snort when Sam gasped in fake shock. “Seriously, though. I personally would love to be as genre savvy as you are. I mean, you always know what to do or have some obscure knowledge about whatever we’re facing. From the Fright Knight’s legend to how to train your dragon ghost.”

Sam merely shrugged with a lazy grin on her face, “What can I say? Obscure knowledge sort of comes with being a Goth.”

The two girls started snickering after that. As their laughter died down, Valerie noticed Sam’s smile fading from the corner of her eye, concerning her. “Sam? Is everything okay?”

“Valerie...I’m sorry.”

That took her by surprise. After a few seconds of shock, the Red Huntress rolled her eyes good-naturedly before gently nudging her friend with her shoulder. “C’mon, Sam. I told you already. You don’t have to feel sorry for inviting meー.”

This time it was Sam who cut her off. She shook her head. “No. No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”

One would think that a semi-professional ghost huntress would have seen it all, and honestly, so did Valerie, but she was genuinely shocked at Sam’s apology. The shock didn't last long, though. “Are you seriously apologising for that? Sam, that was two years ago!”

Of all the things she could be apologising for...She just had to pick that one, didn’t she?

Sam groaned, frustrated and clenching her gym shorts with her hands. “I know it’s been two years, but that doesn’t change that I wasn’t the most pleasant person in the world to you for reasons that weren’t...completely pure.”

“So what?” Valerie insisted. “Neither was I for the longest time! You and Tucker were right when you called me out during Pariah Dark’s attack; how could I expect to be treated like one of the group when I used to be such a brat to you? You still eventually forgave me.” She pointed out.

“You don’t understand…” Sam whined as she rubbed her face with her hands. “While it’s true that part of my animosity towards you came from how you used to treat us, and another good chunk came from your eagerness to vaporise one of my best friends,” the Red Huntress actually had the decency to blush embarrassedly at that, “I really, really disliked you because I was...well, I was jealous. Plain and simple.”

There. She’d said it. After years gritting her teeth and burning with envy whenever Danny and Tucker (mostly because of Danny, obviously) drooled over Paulina or any other pretty girl, she had finally admitted she was mostly jealous instead of simply not understanding what the fuss was about. Hanging out with girls more often, namely Valerie and Jazz, instead of only spending her time with the guys had really helped broaden her horizons. Especially when it came to her opinion on other girls. She was proud to say she was finally moving on from her “not like other girls” phase.

Even if Danny’s crush on Paulina had driven her nuts more than once, it was his budding romance with Valerie that truly pushed all her buttons and caused her deepest insecurities to rear their ugly head. Even if dating her was dangerous, Danny still wanted to be with her! He was willing to throw caution to the wind if it meant they could be a couple. And he was so protective of her when Technus attacked… As much as Sam hated to admit it, as much as she wished (to Hell with Desirée) she could ignore it all and just focus on protecting Danny from being hunted by his new girlfriend, that hurt.

That hurt a lot.

Albeit annoying, Danny’s crush on Paulina was safe. Paulina only liked Danny Phantom. Danny couldn’t really get closer to her as his alter-ego without putting her in danger, and Danny would never put an innocent person in danger. And just like that, Paulina became unattainable. But Valerie…

Valerie liked Danny Fenton. She and Danny often just wanted to have a normal life, away from ghosts and burdens that no 14-year-old kid should shoulder. Even if the Red Huntress wanted to kill Danny Phantom, Valerie genuinely liked Danny Fenton. Despite the danger, she was closer than Paulina. And despite their close bond, she was closer to Danny than Sam herself. Because Valerie wasn’t afraid to admit her feelings, unlike her.

In fact, hadn’t Valerie put her job before her love life, Sam knew without an ounce of a doubt that she and Danny would still be together. Because she had been too afraid to tell Danny how much he meant to her sooner.

Yes, she had been jealous of Valerie.

She had been jealous of the attention she received from Danny. She had been jealous of the fact that they went out on several dates and nothing could embarrass them or ruin their little moment. She was jealous because it would’ve meant things would change.

But most importantly, she was jealous of Valerie’s guts.

And she finally confessed it.

...which made what Valerie said next all the more jaw-dropping.

“Yeah, I know.”

Her jaw hanging low and eyes as wide as saucers, Sam slowly turned her head to look the huntress dead in the eye. “You know?” She asked, completely flabbergasted.

Valerie snorted. She actually snorted at her question! And while Sam was looking at her with the most comically astonished expression on the face of the planet, Valerie just regarded her with a coy smile. “No offence, Sam, but it was kinda hard to miss. I think only Danny wasn’t aware of it.”

Sam had nothing to say in response to that.

“Besides, didn’t I tell you before I even started going out with Danny? When you like someone, if you don’t make a move, somebody else will. What did you think I was referring to other than your feelings, chess?”

“That...is true.” The Goth admitted quietly.

Seeing her usually outspoken friend acting so despondent all of a sudden didn’t sit well with the green-eyed teenager. She sighed, “Look, Sam. I understand that you were...difficult because you were jealous. I can’t deny I once or twice acted petty towards you because I was jealous, myself. But even if I hadn’t decided to just stay friends with Danny, I don’t think we would’ve worked out in the end.”

Not for the first time that day, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last time either, Valerie had taken her completely aback. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Sam insisted, “What are you talking about? You two are the best ghost hunters in Amity Park, you guys would have been the ultimate power couple!”

Leaning back on her elbows, the Red Huntress sent the Goth a smirk, “Ah, but you’re forgetting I would’ve had to know Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same first. And I…”, for the first time since their sparring lesson began, Valerie found herself hesitating, “I don’t know how I would’ve taken that.

“Sure, I really, really liked Danny, but I had spent far longer hating his ghost half. Ever since the Cujo-related incidents I blamed him for the turn my life had taken. And even when I was growing fond of Danny Fenton, his actions as Danny Phantom still drove me nuts! I mean, he literally unmasked me right before my dad! He forbade me from ghost hunting until I got that upgrade in my suit. Could I really put all that aside in favour of having a relationship with him?

“That’s why it took me so long to face you guys once I learned the truth; I was trying to make peace with it all. I figured I could learn to forgive Danny, maybe even trust him with my life...but never with my heart again. There were too many imbalances between us for me to be comfortable in a relationship with him...and you guys are honestly better together anyways.” She winked at the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian.

“You really think so?” Sam could feel the heat making its way to her cheeks the moment Valerie nodded at her question. “I-I mean!”, ugh, how she hated stuttering!, “Danny’s always been super important to me...obviously! And we’ve always done our best to be there for each other and have each other’s backs, but there are times when I can’t help but wonder if perhaps we’re just making a mistake and we were better off as friends…” She finished with a defeated sigh.

At the sensation of an arm wrapped around her shoulders, she turned to look at Valerie. “Sam, trust me. This is no mistake. You’re one of the very few people who understand there’s no difference between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom; they’re both Danny and you’ve always known that and done your best to show him just that. And unlike Paulina or me, even if you hadn’t known his secret from the beginning, I’m willing to bet my right arm that you would’ve accepted both sides of him equally either way.”

At her words, Sam could only smile warmly, “You really think so?”

Valerie returned her smile. “I know so.”

Still replaying Valerie’s words and organising her own thoughts in her head, Sam turned to face her, one hand resting on her lap and the other on Valerie’s shoulder, “For what it’s worth, I still think that after a, very understandable, initial bump in your relationship, you two could’ve made a great couple too. I meant what I said when I told you that, if Danny liked you, then we would only have to make room for you at our table. I can’t think of any girl I would be willing to do that for but you, Val.”

Valerie almost gasped at Sam’s words, but she recovered rather quickly, “Thank you, Sam. That means a lot coming from you.” Resting her own hand on top of the one on her shoulder, she winked mischievously at her, “And don’t worry; I don’t go around stealing my friends’ boyfriends.”

The Goth girl snorted at that. “Glad to hear that.”

They remained like that for a moment, just enjoying the comfortable silence that had settled between them and their secret understanding. They were friends. They had similarities and differences. But that would never change the respect each felt for the other.

Finally, getting up from the floor and dusting herself off, Valerie broke the silence, “Come on, there’s still many moves I haven’t used to kick your butt.”

Sam smirked at the challenge, “Oh, you’re so on!”

................

The Fentons’ Emergency Ops Centre had, ironically, become their safe haven.

Whenever they wanted to enjoy some alone time before they had to part ways or a ghost attack took place, they would simply climb up the roof and enter through the door leading to it. Although Danny could just phase or fly them there if they were really pressed for time, which was their usual way of getting there because they were always pressed for time.

The Ops Centre was really just an excuse to spend some time together, really.

It didn’t matter what they did. Sometimes they would make out because they were a couple and couples made out with each other, didn’t they? Especially when said couple consisted of two hormone-driven teenagers. Maybe if they’d been a pair of octogenarians, the fuss of the relationship would have been elsewhere. Like how incredible it was that they’d survived that long in the first place.

Other times they just talked about nothing and everything at the same time. Sort of like what they usually did, but without Tucker. Sam would often talk about the latest hideous monstrosity their parents had intended she wore ー”Oh, you’re laughing now! But trust me, Undergrowth had much better fashion sense than my parents!”ー, or how rapidly the poles were melting and nobody was doing anything about it, or how her latest poetry reading went ー“Kwan’s getting better, actually. This time he wrote about the new scabs he got during the last game”ー, and how they could defeat the villain of the week who was somehow harder to beat than the previous one because, really, they always got harder to beat.

And Danny would recall his parents’ latest shenanigans, or Jazz’s newest psychological experiment with ghosts that she was sure was going to work because it was just flawless; or he’d warn her about the food in his house ー”I know you don’t eat meat anyways, but don’t open the fridge. The ecto-weenies are back and this time they’ve brought BBQ sauce.” He would also complain about the workload of homework Mr Lancer had assigned them; sometimes because he didn’t think he’d have the time to finish it all, and sometimes he just didn’t know where to start because what the Heck is irony anyway? Didn’t anyone realise that what they often called irony was actually more of a paradox? How could they be teaching something wrong in English class?! And, sometimes, in those rare moments where Danny finally realised, only to forget his lesson all over again the next day, that he could count on her, Tucker, Jazz, Val ーand his loved ones, damn it!ー and confide his deepest secrets, he would open up about how being Danny Phantom was taking its toll on him. How being famous was more often than not more suffocating than flattering. How he was getting tired that his enemies only ever came back, or became stronger, or multiplied. How he feared, no, how he felt it was never going to end until he was 100% dead and not just 50%... He even still had trouble understanding what truly happened to him the day of the accident.

And maybe they just would never know.

And then, there were days like today. Days where they would just stay in silence, watching Amity Park since the makeshift observatory his zany but genius parents had built all on their own. Because, sometimes, watching the sunset in silence with that special someone was just enough.

While Danny leaned against the railing, Sam was sitting on top of it, enjoying the soft breeze blowing around her and caressing her skin. “Today I trained with Valerie.”

Perking up at the sound of her voice suddenly breaking the silence, Danny turned his head slightly in her direction. “Oh?” He let out, “How did it go?”

“I managed to last a full five minutes and land a few serious hits myself.” She stated proudly.

The ghost boy whistled appreciatively, “Five full minutes! Now that’s impressive.” He sent her a sly look and a smirk, his admiration turning into amusement, “And how many hits did you cushion?”

Curling her lip in annoyance, Sam muttered, “The fact that I’m even sitting here is a miracle in itself.”

That had Danny snickering like crazy, before a sharp pain in his arm stopped him, “Ow!”

To his surprise, instead of a smug Sam as he expected, he found his girlfriend gingerly rubbing her arm, a pained expression on her face. “Okay,” she panted, “that was so not worth it.”

“Here, let me help.” Gently resting his fingers on her arm, he used his ice powers to send a chilly sensation across her limb, effectively alleviating the pain. “Anything else I should know about? Did the training turn into a battle to the death?”

“Actually, we talked things out and we finally buried the hatchet.” She said seriously.

Danny furrowed the brow in confusion. “Uh, Sam? I was kidding. And I thought you already did that when she found out the truth about my powers.”

Chuckling softly, Sam could only roll her eyes with a smile on her face as she leaned close to leave a tender kiss on his lips before whispering, “Clueless.”

#Danny Phantom #dp #dp fic #dp fanfic #sam manson #valerie gray #danny fenton #tucker foley #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #paulina sanchez #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #most characters are just mentioned though #amethyst ocean #danny/sam #my fic

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holdingforgeneralhugs · 3 years

Text

Bitter Pill to Swallow

Chapter 3 (Ch.2, Ch.1)

Thank you again to the lovely @tvserie-s-world for letting me use her screencaps💕

"Curahee!"

Valarie grinned as she cheered along with her fellow paratroopers. Liebgott managed to slosh some of his drink onto her boots but she couldn't bring herself to get mad about it. After the thrill of completing the five qualifying jumps and managing not to vomit during any of them, Valerie and the rest of Easy felt like they were on top of the world.

She spotted Gene getting a drink at the bar and wandered over to him. He jumped when she clapped him on the shoulder, whacking her in the arm good naturedly for frightening him. Valerie grinned before turning to George who had just popped up with a drink for Gene.

"Hey Georgie, you got another one of those beers under there for me?" She asked.

"That depends," George responded cheekily, "you gonna tell me the magic word of the night?"

"The magic word of the night," Valerie teased, "is kiss my ass and gimme a beer Luz."

George smirked and reached under the counter, pulling out a full glass and planting it firmly on the counter in front of her. He got a mischievous twinkle in his eye then and reached under to grab a glass for himself.

"Now in response to your cheek," stated Luz, in a scarily accurate impersonation of Sink, "I'll have to challenge you to a contest. Whoever downs their drink the quickest gets a full pack of lucky strikes."

"Well how could I back down from a challenge like that," smirked Valerie. "You wanna get in on the fun Gene?" She asked, laughing when Gene vehemently shook his head.

"Oh no, I'm quite happy to drink my beer and watch you two act the fool," he retorted, sipping his drink and leaning against the counter. George and Valerie shared a look, and with a nod they raced to down their drinks. Clearly they'd drawn a crowd, because she could hear the guys shouting out a countdown around her. With a gasp she slammed her glass on the counter, and cried out in dismay when she realised George had just beat her.

"C'mon Val, hand em over," he teased, holding out his hand and fluttering his fingers. She grumbled something about him obviously cheating before pressing her precious box of lucky strikes into his palm. He opened them gleefully and plucked one out for himself before holding out the box to her.

"Aw c'mon Val, you didn't think I'd take em and not offer you one as a peace offering did ya?"

She rolled her eyes but took one gratefully, nodding her thanks to him when he lit it for her. He placed another drink on the counter for her and she took a sip, content to enjoy this glass.

Toye and the mortar gang had decided to stick around at the bar, and she laughed with them as they challenged each other to drinking games. She almost choked on her drink when Skip spilled beer all down his shirt in his eagerness to beat Penk, who was surprisingly good at downing drinks.

"Hate to interrupt your fun fellas, but I was wondering if I could have a word with Lieutenant Landry."

She went stiff in her seat, cigarette in hand suspended right in front of her lips. She glanced to her right and met Gene's eyes, and he was giving her a very pointed look. She glared back at him before turning around and facing her fellow Lieutenant. He gestured towards a quieter corner and she nodded, following him without a word. She smoked her cigarette harshly, wondering what he could possibly want with her tonight of all nights.

"So," he started cautiously, "The batallion officers are drinking in another room to let the enlisted men enjoy themselves here. Nix, Welsh and I were wondering if you'd like to join us?"

She stared back at him sceptically. Outside of the necessary consultations on exercises they hadn't spoken since their argument, and she wasn't quite sure what to say now that he was.

He could sense her hesitation and sighed softly. "Look Landry, I know we haven't exactly gotten off on the right foot but we're celebrating tonight, so how about we put all that aside and enjoy a well deserved night off?"

She contemplated that for a moment, but she agreed that a night off was well deserved, and the men would probably have more fun without any officers breathing down their necks.

"Alright then," she sighed, "lead the way."

He seemed almost surprised that she'd agreed so easily, but he recovered quickly and led her out of the room and down the hall to a smaller room.

"Hell Landry, what a delightful surprise," grinned Lewis when he spotted her walking in behind his friend. He was standing behind the bar and pouring a very generous helping of VAT 69 for himself.

"Don't get used to it Nixon," she shot back.

"Oh don't worry," he replied nonchalantly as she took a seat at the bar, "we're all very aware that you prefer the enlisted men to us 'stuffy' officers."

Ah, so he'd overheard her talking to Bill that day he'd asked her why she was hardly ever with the other officers. "Yeah well, ain't my fault you all wouldn't know fun if it slapped ya," she retorted. Lewis and Harry exchanged a glanced and then burst out laughing.

"You know what Landry," Lewis chuckled, "you're not half bad. What's your poison then? Or are you on the soda water with Dick here?"

"Why am I not surprised Saint Winters doesn't drink?" She snarked, rolling her eyes, "I'll have some of that VAT 69 if you please."

He looked sideways to Dick at her comment, and if he didn't know him so well he would have missed the slight tick in his jaw. Lewis decided to note that down to ask him about it later. He poured Valerie a generous glass, and whistled in surprise when she downed it in one and put the glass back down in front of him expectantly.

"Hell Nix," chuckled Harry, "I think you may have met your match on the drinking front." Lewis smirked as he poured her another and topped up his own glass. He picked up his and tilted it towards her expectantly.

"I think Harry here may be on to something there," he grinned, "what d'ya say Landry, why don't we start anew and be drinking buddies?"

Valerie sized him up for a moment, contemplating. She'd tended to avoid spending much time with her fellow Easy officers, preferring the company of the enlisted men. She still maintained they were stuffy as hell, but maybe they weren't all bad. Sure, Nixon was another rich jerk from another posh college, but he did seem like the kind of guy who knew how to have a good time. As for Welsh, he was a late addition to the crew and she hadn't exactly taken too much troubles to talk to him. Maybe if she gave them a chance she might grow to like them.

"Hell Landry, you sure know how to keep a guy hanging," quipped Lewis, shaking his glass in front of hers. She rolled her eyes at his impatience but smiled slightly as she clinked her glass against his and they downed their drinks in unison.

"Well I wouldn't want to seem too eager, now would I?" She smirked, sliding her glass across the counter for another. He raised an eyebrow at her sceptically and she narrowed her eyes at him as if to say 'are you doubting I can handle it?' He poured again and watched with fascination as she downed it.

"Jesus Landry you really are somethin' else aren't you?" He laughed.

"I'm here all week folks," she grinned, spreading her arms and doing a mock bow, with Harry and Lewis joining in with a round of applause. It was fun, they were fun, and she thought that maybe, just maybe giving them a chance wouldn't be so bad after all.

She felt a pair of eyes on her and when she looked beyond Harry she was unsurprised to find two blue eyes watching her intently.

"Something you'd like to say Winters?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He sat up a little straighter then and cleared his throat, clearly not expecting she'd pay him any mind.

"Well, I...was just thinking to myself that I'd never met a lady that could drink like that," he replied honestly. Valerie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Well then it's lucky I ain't no lady, as I've already told you," she replied dismissively, "and there's a whole lotta things you don't know about me."

"Well it'd be hard to know anything about you since you hardly ever talk to us."

Lewis eyed his friend in surprise, and he shared a look with an equally shocked Harry. He subtly poured himself and Harry another drink and sat back to see how it would all play out.

"Well maybe I would talk to you more if you weren't so godamn stiff. You got the rule book stuck up your ass or something?" Valerie snapped. Dick gazed back at her, his jaw clenching and his eyebrows furrowed.

"And maybe if you weren't so argumentative, or didn't act like you were so much better than us, you wouldn't be such a chore to be around."

His eyes widened the minute he realised what he'd said, and she could see that he was about to try and apologise for it, not that she would give him the chance. He'd meant every word of what he said, and they all knew it.

"Well I'll be sure not to impose on your time any longer," she hissed, pushing her glass across the counter and standing abruptly. "Lewis, Harry, it's been fun. We should do it again sometime."

Without waiting for a response she marched from the room. Lewis and Harry watched her walk out the door before turning to Dick with barely smothered smirks.

"Wow Dick," Lewis said, "I've never seen you get so animated. What's going on with there?"

"Yeah," chimed Harry, "I didn't think anyone could get under your skin."

Dick finished off his own drink and placed the glass on the counter, unwilling to meet their eyes. "There's nothing going on," he stated as he pulled on his coat, "Now if you don't mind I'm gonna hit the hay. I'll see you two in the morning."

"Aw c'mon Dick don't be like that," pleaded Lewis, "there's clearly something going on."

Dick shook his head and bid them both goodnight as he walked out the door.

"I'll get it out of him yet, don't you worry," promised Lewis, pouring himself and Harry another drink. There was clearly something with those two and he'd be dammed if he was left out of the loop.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @geniedocroe

#band of brothers #dick winters #dick winters x oc #dick winters x valerie landry #bitterpilltoswallow #valerie landry #bob #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fandom #hbo band of brothers #hbo war #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #curahee #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #dick winters imagine

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro drabble #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #nekoma high #nekoma haikyuu #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo x y/n

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the-al-chemist · 3 years

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 6

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language.

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @lifeofkaze

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

I don't give a damn about my reputation

I've never been afraid of any deviation

And I don't really care if you think I'm strange

I ain't gonna change

And I'm never gonna care about my bad reputation

~ Bad Reputation - Joan Jett ~

“Shit, shit, shit,” Artemis muttered to herself as she ran through the crowds at North Greenwich station. She was late again.

“Where do you think you’re going, girlie?” the man at the front desk called after her as she darted past him to the door which led to the auditorium.

She ignored him, and kept on running, pulling the door open and-

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” Artemis panted, looking up to see who she had just crashed into as they walked out of the door she was trying to enter. As she recognised the freckled face of her victim, her heart sank like a stone.

“There you are,” said Charlie, the former pyrotechnician, rubbing the spot where Artemis had just made impact with his torso. “I thought maybe you were just going to not turn up.”

“You hoped, you mean.”

“Not at all.”

Artemis narrowed her eyes at him, trying to gage whether or not he was being sincere. She couldn’t tell.

“Well, here I am,” she said. “Will you take me to KC? I have to go through a couple of things on my contract before I can sign it.”

“Have you not signed your contract?” asked Charlie.

“No, there’s a couple of things I need to go through first. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Actually, it is entirely my business, I am your supervisor, after all.”

“But KC is my employer. And I want to discuss things with her, not with you.”

“Sadly, that’s not going to be possible,” Charlie said. He held the door open, and gestured for Artemis to go through it, which she did, after rolling her eyes and letting out an angry sigh. “KC isn’t in this morning. She asked me to go through everything with you.”

“But-”

“Look,” said Charlie, sounding as if he was trying to be diplomatic, “I’ll see if it’s anything I can help with, and if not, I’ll call KC. Alright?”

Artemis pursed her lips, and wordlessly followed Charlie into the green room, where she had been interviewed the day before. She sat down on the chair she had taken for the interview.

“So,” Charlie said, sitting opposite Artemis on a sofa, a large, square-shaped coffee table between them, “what’s the issue with your contract?”

“The contract is for the whole length of the tour.”

“That is how these things tend to work.”

“Yeah, but it says that I’m going to be working under supervision for the whole length of the tour,” Artemis explained, leaning back in her seat, her arms folded in front of her. “I don’t need that much supervision. I know what I’m doing, it’s just a box ticking exercise. I only want supervision for the two months I need to get signed off.”

“Alright,” Charlie shrugged. “I’ll leave you alone once you’ve done your two months.”

“And what if I leave after the two months is up, but before the tour ends?”

Charlie frowned at her.

“Are you planning on leaving before the tour ends?” he asked her.

“I’m not planning anything,” replied Artemis. “I just don’t want to end up in the same position as I did in my last job, that’s all.”

“Right,” Charlie didn’t stop frowning. “You do realise that after your two months are up, there’s only a few weeks of the tour left, don’t you?”

“Yes. But I still want to know that if-”

“If you finish your two months, I will sign you off, regardless of whether you complete your contract.”

“Exactly.”

“No, I mean that I will sign you off, regardless,” Charlie nodded, just once.

“Good,” said Artemis. She didn’t relax. “I’d like that in writing before I sign.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I don’t have the ability to amend your contract,” Charlie replied. “But you can take this as a verbal agreement. I’ll sign you off. You have my word.”

Artemis made a derisive noise to let Charlie know exactly what she thought of his word. Charlie didn’t react.

“Either you accept the verbal agreement and sign, or you go home and come back tomorrow when KC’s here,” he said, shortly. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and held it out to Artemis. “Up to you.”

“Fine,” muttered Artemis. She snatched the pen from his hand, picked her bag off the floor, pulled out her contract, and signed it. She handed it to Charlie with a sullen expression on her face, and he took it from her.

“Looks like we are stuck with each other,” he said, with a good-natured smile. Artemis scowled at him. “Now I just have to ask you to disclose any criminal record you may have in writing. Just red tape, you know how it is.”

Slowly and deliberately, still maintaining eye contact with him, Artemis put her hand once more into her bag. She raised her eyebrows, and the corners of Charlie’s mouth twitched slightly.

Still staring at him, Artemis drew a sealed white envelope from her bag and placed it on the table in front of him. The smirk immediately slipped from Charlie’s face, his eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up so far they looked like they might disappear into his hairline.

“Alrighty then,” he said, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “As your supervisor and line manager, I have to tell you that none of us are allowed to open that, or try and find out about what’s inside. The only way we will know what’s written inside that envelope is if you choose to divulge that information, which you are under no obligation to do.”

“In which case, I won’t,” said Artemis.

“That’s your prerogative,” Charlie shrugged. He stood up and collected Artemis’ contract and white envelope, placing them in a folder on the counter next to the coffee machine. He held out his hand for Artemis to shake, which she did not do. “Yeah, alright. Come on, let’s introduce you to the band. I’m guessing you know their music?”

“No,” Artemis rolled her eyes, “I’ve been living in a cave for the past six years.”

In truth, Artemis had been listening to Equinox’s music since they first started their rise to fame. She had seen one of their first ever gigs at the Electric Ballroom in Camden, and been in the crowd at Glastonbury six years earlier when they played the festival for the first time. They had been the breakout stars of the weekend, and ever since, they had been climbing to the top, single by single, album by album, tour by tour.

She hadn’t done much in the way of research before she took the job - after all, everyone knew about Equinox - but since she had decided to apply, she had been paying attention whenever she came across newspaper and magazine articles about them. She had followed the increasingly outrageous exploits of frontman Jason Everett; read about the friendship between bassist Skye Parkin and drummer Lizzie Jameson; and learned all about the childhood struggles of keyboardist Merula Snyde and songwriter and lead guitarist Orion Amari. She knew how the band had formed, the music they had made, and where they were planning on going next.

As for where they were right now, Artemis was about to find out. She and Charlie left the green room, and he led her down a long narrow corridor behind the stage. Raised voices could be heard from one of the rooms leading off from the corridor, outside which stood a familiar looking blonde woman.

“They all in there, Erika?” Charlie asked the head of security, his eyebrows furrowing.

“What gave that away?” replied Erika. She gave Charlie a knowing look. “Ethan called a meeting.”

“Ah.”

The only Ethan they could have been referring to was Ethan Parkin, former frontman of The Wanderers. Of course, Artemis thought suddenly, as the manager of his daughter’s band, he would also be joining the tour.

“You decided to take the job, then?” Erika asked, turning to Artemis. She really was very tall, even taller than Artemis’ new supervisor. Artemis nodded her head, and Erika smiled. “That’s good. It’s great to have another woman around backstage.”

“Let’s let the new girl have one day on the job before we all start hitting on her,” said Charlie, shaking his head. He seemed to be oblivious to the very dark look Artemis was giving him.

“That’s not what I meant, Weasley,” Erika crossed her arms. “If that’s worrying you, maybe leave introducing the band until tomorrow. You know what Ev is like.”

“Maybe we should leave it until tomorrow anyway,” Charlie frowned and glanced at the door, behind which a heated discussion was obviously still taking place. “I don’t want to disturb whatever that is.”

“Go ahead and disturb them,” Erika told him. “They’ve been at it for ages. They could do with a distraction.”

Her eyes drifted towards Artemis, whose face hardened at being deemed ‘a distraction’. Slowly, Charlie nodded his head, and raised his fist to the door. He knocked, and the voices behind it fell silent.

“Come in,” a man’s voice called out, after a few moments of hushed quiet.

Charlie pushed the door open, and Artemis followed him through to a large dressing room, the walls of which were lined with mirrors and old band posters and crushed velvet sofas. The room was a decent size, but it felt crowded, partly because of the number of people, and partly because of the thick, tense atmosphere hanging in the room like a shroud.

“Sorry to bother you,” said Charlie, smiling in a calm, good-natured way. Artemis couldn’t tell if he was ignoring the tension in the room or if he genuinely hadn’t noticed it.

“Not at all,” said one of the women, smiling and getting up from her perch on the arm of one of the sofas, and practically running over towards them, her brown ponytail bouncing as she did. Artemis recognised the woman immediately: it was Lizzie Jameson, the band’s drummer. “It’s fantastic to see you, Charlie.”

Lizzie Jameson wrapped her arms around Charlie’s shoulders, and he returned her hug. She whispered something into his ear that Artemis couldn’t hear, and as she let him go, one of her hands stayed resting on his upper arm. Artemis kept her face as passive as she could.

“I only saw you this morning, sunshine,” Charlie laughed. He pulled his arm away from Lizzie’s hand and draped it around her shoulders. Artemis tried to stop herself from rolling her eyes, and was almost completely successful. “I just came in to introduce you all to my new assistant” - Artemis sighed at the word ‘assistant’ - “Artemis Hexley. She’s hopefully going to take over from me properly once she’s completed her training.”

Artemis opened her mouth, ready to tell Charlie exactly what she thought about being referred to as his assistant, exactly how much ‘training’ she felt that she needed, and exactly what she made of him, but before she could say anything, Lizzie Jameson jumped in.

“That’s great!” she said, with more enthusiasm than could possibly have been genuine. “It’s really nice to meet you. My name’s Lizzie, I’m the percussionist. I really like your jacket, by the way, it’s so pretty. Where’s it from?” Artemis didn’t have a chance to answer Lizzie’s question before she continued speaking, barely stopping to breathe. “You know, I can’t believe that we’ve finally found someone to take over the pyros who’s actually suited for the job. Charlie here’s been working himself to the bone doing sound as well. You just let me know if he gives you a hard time, okay?”

“Like I’d do a thing like that,” muttered Charlie, and Lizzie poked him playfully between the ribs.

“I mean it,” she continued, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Artemis stared at her hand blankly. “Any problems, you tell me. I’ll deal with him for you.”

“Thanks,” said Artemis, shrugging Lizzie’s hand off her shoulder and giving the percussionist a smile that was more like a grimace, “but I am perfectly capable of dealing with my own problems. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Lizzie fell quiet, and averted her eyes from Artemis. She looked up at Charlie, who in turn lowered his gaze to the floor. Artemis exhaled, and turned her attention to the rest of the room’s occupants.

The two Parkins, Ethan and Skye, the latter with messy blue hair scraped back from her face, were stood in one corner, still muttering to each other under their breath. In the other, the unmistakable eyes - such a deep shade of blue they looked almost violet - of keyboardist Merula Snyde stared at Artemis with a scathing, mistrustful expression that Artemis returned, before looking over towards the two male band members.

Orion Amari, the guitarist, nodded his head serenely at Artemis, before lowering his eyes to a notebook laid open on the sofa next to him. He started to write something, his shoulder-length dark hair falling forward as he bent over to do so. Jason Everett, like Merula, was staring at Artemis, but his expression was neither scathing nor mistrustful. Artemis made an effort to not shrink into her clothes or cover herself with her arms as she glared back at him.

“Smile, love,” he said, with a wink and a grin, “it might never happen.”

The look Artemis gave him grew harder, angrier. Orion Amari lifted his eyes from his notebook and flicked them between the two of them.

“A smile is not something that can be conjured on request. It is a blessing to be earned,” he said, his voice soft. “For now, Artemis' presence in itself must be blessing enough for us all.”

“Are you taking the piss?” Artemis asked him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. In the corner of the room, Merula smirked.

“I am not,” Orion bowed his head, returning to his notebook. “We were in need of a pyrotechnician, and now, here you are.”

“And you were certainly blessed with much better looks than the last one,” said Everett. He winked again, but this time, the gesture was aimed at Charlie. “Nice work, mate.”

In her peripheral vision, Artemis saw Charlie shake his head, and she heard him exhale.

“What Ev wants to say is,” said Lizzie, removing herself from underneath his arm and walking to the centre of the room, a forced breeziness to her voice. “It really is great to meet you, Artemis.”

“You said that already.”

“Because it’s true,” Lizzie turned to the other two women in the room. “Isn’t that right?”

Merula looked from Lizzie to Artemis and back again, before rolling her unusual coloured eyes. She didn’t utter a word. Skye looked over from the whispered conversation she was still having with her father, and made eye contact with Artemis for the first time.

“Yeah, smashing, absolutely” she said, then looked away again. “Right, sounds like we’ve got a lot of work to do. I’d say let’s crack on with it”

“Skye’s right,” Ethan nodded, addressing the band. “We really need to get to work. Pleasure to meet you, Alexis.”

“Artemis,” Artemis corrected him, but he was already too busy talking to Jason Everett to notice.

Charlie cleared his throat awkwardly, and smiled at Artemis as he gestured to the door. Artemis followed him back out into the corridor, which they walked down side by side, not looking at each other.

“I’m sorry about that,” said Charlie, eventually breaking their silence. “They’re not usually that-”

“Twattish?”

“I was going to say ‘on edge’, but I can see how they might have come across as a bit unwelcoming.”

“I don’t care,” Artemis replied. “I’m not here to make friends.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear when you spoke to Liz,” Charlie said. Artemis scoffed, and the two of them were quiet again for a moment before Charlie added, in a quiet voice, “and to me.”

Artemis said nothing. Charlie sighed, and ran one hand through his hair, frowning. Then, he nodded his head.

“Alright, then. If that’s the way you want it to be, why don’t we go and look at the igniters? You can show me how you wired them yesterday.”

Artemis’ face softened slightly, and she nodded her assent. Finally, she thought. At least there was something here she felt completely comfortable with.

#when stars ignite #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm rockstar au #rockstar au #artemis hexley #charlie weasley #erika rath #lizzie jameson #orion amari #skye parkin #merula snyde

18 notes · View notes

wingsofkpop · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.IX: Bloodborne

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting, blood and gore, some satanic themes, mentions of trauma, etc.

word count: 6,5k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

“—so once Youngjae channels enough power from the blood moon tonight, he’ll be able to lower the veil between the Other Side and the physical plane long enough to resurrect your spirit into a mortal body.” You explain, glancing over your notes at the unusually quiet figure sitting on your bed. Something about his expression seems distant—almost sorrowful.

After your return from the hospital, and after the long chat with your roommate convincing her that your absence all night was due to a last minute work emergency, a certain ghost phased into your bedroom. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be this concerned, but during his visits, Jackson usually never shuts up. If you were all alone with no one to talk to, you probably wouldn’t either.

You lower your notebook and shake your head, “You haven’t said one word since you showed up. What’s wrong?”

Jackson purses his lips, as if nervous to relay the thoughts swirling through his mind. Another brief moment of silence passes before he finally murmurs, “It’s the witches. They’re starting to get suspicious again… I don’t know how long I have before they figure out I’ve been crossing over to this plane.”

“Then we’ll just have to bring you back before they find out.” You grab your phone from your desk, checking through your notifications to see if a certain siphoner has yet responded to your dozens of texts and calls. No dice.

You haven’t been able to reach Youngjae since yesterday morning, which is odd considering the guy is the type to respond within three seconds of receiving a message. It would be one thing if he let you know that he’s busy, but it’s complete radio silence. It’s not like Youngjae at all.

“You’re worried about something.”

Your eyes dartup at Jackson’s observation, discovering his concerned gaze focused on you.

“It’s Youngjae.” You sigh, “I haven’t heard from him, but I’m sure he’s just busy brewing potions or something.” You expect to earn at least a chuckle from the ghost, but his silence remains along with the blank expression along his face. His same distant demeanor also lingers, and this time, your concern grows to panic. “What is it, Jackson? What’s going on?”

“I didn’t want to say anything cause I was sure it was all in my head, but I feel that something is… weird.”

“Weird?”

“It’s hard to explain.” He continues, “But as a ghost, I can feel things around me… like right now, the universe just seems off—” His voice cuts out as he frantically shakes his head, “Anyway, I just want you to be careful. Mark used to tell me that disrupting the balance of nature is like opening Pandora’s box.”

“Yeah. We will be doing none of that.” You set your phone down before crossing the room to kneel in front of Jackson. A grin lifts to your lips as you hum to the ghost, “So what do you feel when you’re around me?...”

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you feel things around you… Do you feel anything special when you’re with me?”

You’re surprised at the eagerness that swells in your chest as he takes his time to think over your question. The inquiry was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood, but you’re actually curious about your companion’s ghastly perceptions. After maybe a minute or two, Jackson sends you a small smile:

“I feel… light.”

“Light? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You have this aura around you.” Jackson affirms, mindlessly reaching forward thumb at your cheek. You obviously can’t feel his touch, but something in your gut tells you that if you could, you would feel nothing but warmth. “I feel powerful when I’m with you…”

“Is that a good thing?”

He grins, “I think so.”

You continue to stare at one another for a moment, almost attempting to read the depths in each other’s eyes. It’s not until a harsh knock resonates from the front door do you finally break the gaze, offering Jackson a final hum, “I’ll bring you back as soon as I can. I promise.”

Jackson nods, “I know you will. But like I said, please be careful.”

“I will. See you soon.” You wait for Jackson to disappear completely before exiting your bedroom, cursing Sana for leaving you to deal with whoever is incessantly banging on your door. It’s probably the old lady from across the hall wanting to borrow another cup of sugar. You roll your eyes at the thought and open the door, ready to politely decline your neighbor’s request.

Your words die on your tongue—definitely not the old lady from across the hall.

“Mark? What are you—?”

“What? Not expecting to see me?” Mark’s hostile growl takes you by surprise, as does the furious expression etched along his features. “That’s not surprising since you’ve been ignoring me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Oh. I’m sure.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Mark takes a step closer to you before pointing a finger in your direction, “The fact that you not only lie to me, but you go behind my back and then deliberately avoid me for days on end.”

“What are you even talking about, Mark?”

“I’m talking about you and Youngjae playing God and resurrecting Jackson.”

Your muscles instantly freeze, as if Mark had taken a tub of ice water and thrown it over your head. The annoyance inside your chest shifts to guilt, and your once cold features cannot help but soften.

You shake your head, “Mark, I—”

“Do you know how dangerous it is to bring someone back from the dead, (Y/N)?” Mark lowers his voice, but his tone remains as frigid as his gaze. “Do you know the consequences that happen when you fuck with the balance of nature?”

“I get that, but—it’s complicated, Mark… There’s things you don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand!?” He scoffs, “Last I checked, I’m the goddamn witch here, (Y/N)! You know nothing about magic and its sacrifice!”

“Maybe not, but I do know that there is a chance I could bring Jackson back!” You shake your head again, “Please, just give me a chance to explain—”

“No. Because it’s not fucking happening.” Mark interrupts, furiously shaking his own head. “I forbid you to do this.”

It’s like a switch goes off in your mind. Your guilt immediately transforms, but this time, it configures into rage:

“You forbid me!? Who the flying fuck do you think you are!?”

“I won’t sit back and allow you to get yourself killed—!”

“And last I checked, you don’t have the right to control what I do and the decisions I make!” You seethe, stepping further back into your apartment. “This is my choice. I’m resurrecting Jackson whether you like it or not.”

“Fine! Get yourself fucking killed for all I care!” The witch raises his hands in mock surrender. “At least then I won’t have to deal with your reckless, moronic ass!”

“Fuck you, Mark.” You don’t allow the witch to say anything further and slam the door in his face. Your chest remains unbearably heavy, both physically and mentally, but you ignore the sweltering emotions and begin to traverse around the apartment, gathering your bag and other assorted belongings.

A confused and rather concerned Sana emerges from her bedroom a few seconds later. “Are you okay? What was with all that yelling?”

“Don’t worry about it,” You huff, shoving your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. “Just Mark being a douchebag, as per usual.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find Youngjae.”

“Isn’t it kind of late?”

“I’m an adult, Sana.” You snap before throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Similar to Mark, you don’t allow Sana the chance to question you further and sprint out the front door, praying that Youngjae will be up to bringing Jackson back in the next few hours.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark has never exercised the greatest control over his emotions. It first began when he was twelve, after his dad walked out on his mom. He found himself sobbing his eyes out some days, and beating the shit out of other kids on others. His mood ranged from intense rage to extreme depression. There was no in between.

In an effort to help, his mom enrolled him in a program designed to teach teens how to handle their emotions. But to no one’s surprise, the therapy didn’t do shit and Mark continued to initiate fights and cry himself to sleep most nights. He never understood why he felt this way—he still doesn’t, to be honest. His dad and him were never close, nor did he ever really care about his sudden departure. Maybe he was just an angry kid with depression. Maybe it was something else.

It wasn’t until his mom was killed did Mark begin to pull his life together, which also happened to be around the same time he met the too-friendly, homeschooled kid with an ego the size of Jupiter, Jackson Wang. Sure, the two of them butted heads every so often, but with Jackson being a werewolf, Mark learned the importance of managing the chaos within. ‘Emotion is like a loaded gun,’ he remembers Jackson once said, ‘If you let yourself pull the trigger without first aiming down sights, then you risk sinking a bullet into someone you love.’ Those words remain with him—remind him what means to stay in control.

But when it involves the people he loves, Mark can’t always regulate the ticking bomb counting down in his soul.

An ache settles in his chest as he recalls the passionate fire in your gaze. There’s always been some parts of you that reminds Mark of his past friend, specifically your stubbornness and inability to think before you act. He’s never found himself hating those parts of you until now—and he shouldn’t, Mark knows that, but he’s so fucking angry and so fucking scared of losing yet another one of the most important people in his life.

He’s experienced his fair share of loss, but losing you… It would break him. Completely.

Mark tries to push the intrusive thoughts from the forefront of his mind and focus on navigating his way through the dark maze of headstones and crumbling tombs. Right after you slammed your front door in his face, he received a text from Youngjae summoning him, Jisung and Lia to an emergency meeting at the edge of the cemetery. He’s still mad at the siphoner for assisting with your reckless scheme, but he won’t allow his pettiness to interfere with the safety of the coven.

A sigh falls from his lips—he does regret ever saying those ending words to you though… because what if they’re the last ones you hear from him.

‘I’m so sorry, Jackson…’

Mark’s misery is forgotten when he notices a group of people up ahead. He recognizes Lia, Jisung and Youngjae flocked together inside a chalk-white circle surrounded by lit torches. For a moment, Mark wonders if they’re in the middle of performing some type of seance, but his curiosity dwindles into confusion when he grows aware of the panic present in each set of their features.

He breaks into a sprint to cover more distance, approaching the strangely placed trio in no time. At the sight of him, Lia immediately bursts into tears, furthering the anxiety bubbling at the back of his throat.

“What the hell is going on!?”

“Hyung! You have to get out of here right now!” Mark notices the swollen, angry flesh of Youngjae’s bottom lip as he speaks, along with the ugly bruise underneath his left eye.

“What happened?” He ignores the siphoner’s warnings, attempting to reach inside the circle and grab Lia’s arm. However, his hand is met with resistance—a boundary spell. “Who did this to you?”

Lia sobs, “Just go, Mark! Before he hurts you!”

“Before who hurts me!? What are you—” His demands die in his throat as another figure appears from behind a large, marble gravestone. He immediately recognizes the newcomer, which sends even more confusion through his veins. “Seo Changbin? What the hell is this?”

“It’s an emergency meeting, hyung.” Mark feels his entire body freeze when the familiar, conniving voice enters his ears. “You had me a little worried… I almost thought you wouldn’t show up.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Mark whirls around to face a smirking Minho cockily leaning against the wall of an empty tomb. “What kind of game do you think you’re playing, Minho?”

The younger witch shrugs before pushing off the wall to pace around the area. As he draws closer and closer, Mark can spy an ancient, navy blue ring sitting heavily on his forefinger. He’s never seen any piece of jewelry like it before, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t just a simple ring—and that he’s definitely in some kind of trouble.

“Mind explaining to me what we’re doing here? Or are you just going to continue pacing around the place like a cocky bastard?”

“Tonight is a special night, hyung… You wanna know why?” He watches Minho point to the night sky, “In just a few minutes, the moon will drift into the Earth’s shadow and the light of the sun will reflect across the moon’s surface, thus causing a blood moon… It’s actually pretty cool—”

“For Christsake, Minho—get to the goddamn point.”

“You know, for years I had to deal with all your bullshit excuses and justifications of putting our coven in danger—it was only a matter of time until one of us ended up dead, don’t you think?”

A bitter memory of Nayeon’s corpse resurfaces, but Mark remains silent.

“Everyone was too fucking blind, but I saw right through you.” Mark doesn’t move a muscle when Minho suddenly approaches, crowding his space until his nose is mere inches from brushing his own. The younger witch’s harsh glare bleeds into his soul as he continues, “You’re a poor fucking excuse for a leader, hyung—a leader who can’t even protect his own people.”

“And you think you can do better, huh?” Mark growls, glaring his own daggers into Minho’s gaze. “You have no fucking clue what it takes to run this coven… Admit it, you’re just pissed they chose me over you.”

“And look where that got them.”

“You need to cut out whatever petty bullshit this is and let Youngjae, Jisung and Lia go.” Mark murmurs, “Whatever problems you have are with me, so let’s just talk it out, okay?”

“Oh, Mark-hyung…” Minho’s gaze is unwavering from his own as he lifts a hand to rest on Mark’s shoulder. It’s a second too late that Mark realizes it is the same hand in which holds the mysterious ring:

“I’m over talking it out.”

Youngjae’s screams and Lia’s sobs echo in his ears along with the words that spill from Minho’s lips—they’re foreign, but Mark recognizes the spell right away. He tries to squirm and fight against the perpetrator’s grip, but another pair of hands keep his body in place—Changbin.

Bit by bit, Mark feels the buzz of his magic lift from his veins like a flock of doves. His limbs grow weak and his head fuzzy. Soon enough, his own knees no longer bear the strength to hold his weight. Once both Minho and Changbin release him, Mark collapses to the ground—empty and unable to rise.

“What did you do to him!?” Mark hears Jisung’s voice for the first time, although his brain is not fully able to comprehend the inquiry.

“I took his magic. He won’t be needing it anymore.”

Mark manages to find enough strength to reposition his body in a way that allows him to watch both Minho and Changbin approach a makeshift altar composed of an old, concrete coffin. Through the blur of his vision, he catches the witch stirring some kind of crimson mixture—likely blood. Minho looks to the moon, which is slowly brightening to a shade of maroon, before resting his gaze on his companion:

“It’s time.” He offers the mixture to Changbin, “Once you drink this, I can begin the transformation.”

“And you’re sure this spell will give me everything I need to take down the Primes?”

“One hundred percent.”

Take down the Primes?… Fucking hell.

“Minho! Don’t do this!” Mark can’t make out his own voice between the ringing of his ears and the beating of his heart, but he can only hope they’re audible enough for his audience. “The transformation—it won’t work!”

Youngjae shakes his head. “I don’t understand… What are you talking about, hyung?”

“He’s going to try to recreate the spell I used on Jackson on Changbin.” With a huff and a puff, Mark pushes himself to his hands and knees. He attempts to crawl forward, but the spinning of his head sends his body sprawling along the ground once again. He abandons any more thoughts of movement and speaks to Minho directly, “It will kill him—do you understand me!? You can’t—”

“You failed because you couldn’t draw enough power to complete the transformation.” Minho doesn’t even bother to look in his direction, “It will work—I know it will.”

Understanding there’s no possible way to convince the witch, Mark looks to the werewolf instead, “I’m warning you, Changbin! If you go through with this, you will die!”

“Don’t listen to him. Just drink the blood.”

“No! For fucksake, this is suicide!”

“Think of Jackson.” Minho murmurs to a torn Changbin, reaching across the altar to place a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Do it for him.”

“Changbin, don’t—!”

Mark watches in horror as Changbin throws back the mixture and downs its entirety in two gulps. His heart shatters like the glass vial the werewolf launches to the ground. He peers to his left, discovering the same shocked expressions across Youngjae, Jisung and Lia’s faces, and shakes his head in defeat as Lia begins to sob again.

“Filia maximo… Filia maximo… Morsus, morsus—” The wind begins to screech as Minho chants, tearing at Mark’s hair and nudging at his clothes, as if pleading for him to stop the spell. But there’s nothing he can do. For once, Mark is powerless. “—morsus… Advenio donec duo est revertus mors…” With a loud scream, Changbin collapses to the earth. He squirms and writhes in pain underneath the flaming light of the moon—and Mark can’t help but attempt to block out the snaps of his cracking bones.

The scene seems to last for hours until Changbin eventually grows silent. Mark takes the time to catch his breath, unable to control his lungs over the anxiety, fear and nausea lurking through his veins. He wants to look away from the still werewolf, but his gaze is as frozen as the rest of his body.

His eyes burn with tears of rage—Changbin is dead. Another person died because of his own fucking stupidity. Mark should have known this would happen again. He should have stopped it. He should have—

His thoughts disappear as Changbin suddenly gasps for air. For a moment, he claws at the earth as if attempting to ground himself, before he finally, albeit shakily, climbs to his feet. Minho cautiously approaches the wolf, peering down at the shorter male with a gaze full of concern.

“How do you feel?...”

“I feel…” Changbin flexes his fingers again, before closing them into tight fists. The moonlight illuminates the crimson glow of his irises and the sharpness of his long, black fangs as he faces the witch—a malicious smirk spreading along his lips as he chuckles, “I feel like kicking some ancient Prime ass.”

Mark can’t find the strength to watch anymore and allows his head to lower to the earth. Just before his eyes flutter shut, he swears he spots the movement of shadows from behind a nearby headstone. But before he can confirm his suspicions, his head takes one final spin and the world grows dark.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

June 13th, 1769 — As much as I enjoy the atmosphere of Paris, I believe it is time to progress onto another part of the world. Some of the townsfolk are beginning to grow suspicious, considering I appear twenty years younger than my supposed age. Nevertheless, I will not mind a new start elsewhere. Jaebeom, on the other hand, will be a terror to convince. As he claimed last time I brought the idea to light, ‘There will never be a place more beautiful than Paris.’

But I know he is not through playing with his newest toy—Tzuyu.

I set sail for the newlands tomorrow at sunrise. Whether my brother decides to accompany me or not is solely his preference. It would be pleasant to spend some time apart—to spend some time in peace—but I know, with many complaints and reluctance, Jaebeom will board the ship tomorrow. Wherever I traverse, he follows, and vice versa. We are family, after all.

I will miss Notre Dame the most. I have grown used to visiting the Cathedral and repenting my wrongdoings to the high priest. Of course, I am forced to erase his memory of our talks each time, but it is nice to confess. It lifts a weight off of the shoulders, takes away a small portion of the guilt. If there is a god, he would never allow a creature like me to walk amongst his heavens—but at least I can salvage the lingering hope left inside of my soul. Speaking of hope, I thought I saw a woman that resembled Irene during my daily visit to the church. I find it amusing that after all these years, my heart continues to yearn for her presence. She was truly special—I wonder if she ever thought the same of me.

I’ve heard some of the sailors refer to a shore in the newland that has yet to be claimed. It may be the perfect location for Jaebeom and I to start anew. I can only hope it is as beautiful as people say. Maybe I will construct a place of worship as stunning as the Cathedral.

Isn’t that ironic?... A vampire who believes in faith.

Jinyoung finishes the entry with a sigh, welcoming the nostalgia that spreads through his thoughts like an old friend. It seems just yesterday that he recorded his first thoughts about the land that would become Moon Dye Bay. He shakes his head, carefully setting the old journal back on the bookshelf.

He never did build that church.

“Reminiscing again, brother?” The moment is ruined when a certain hybrid’s snicker reaches his ears. Jinyoung rolls his eyes as Jaebeom takes residence beside him, dragging his fingers along the spines of Jinyoung’s other diaries. “We did have some great times back in the 18th century… Remember our battles during the French Revolution? I rather enjoyed King Louis and Marie Antoinette’s executions.”

“You enjoy anything that involves bloodshed.”

“Don’t be so resentful, Jinyoungie. It’s not my fault that the queen had you in her interests.”

Jinyoung shakes his head before retreating to his desk to fix himself a drink. “The woman was as shallow as a poor soul’s ego. She was taken with any man who’d pay her the time of day. It was a miracle her death came as quickly as it did.”

“Careful there. You sound like me.”

Jinyoung deliberately chooses not to respond to Jaebeom’s comment and proceeds to pour two glasses of bourbon. He ignores his companion’s wide smirk as he hands him one of the drinks. Both the vampire and the hybrid simultaneously take a sip, peering at one another over the rims of their cups. Jaebeom is the first to break the silence with a pleased inhale and a hum:

“You returned pretty late last night. I hope you used protection during your time with (Y/N).”

“Mind your tongue, hyung.” Jinyoung warns, “I brought (Y/N) to the hospital after the attack—I trust you took care of Tzuyu?”

Jaebeom smirks. “Of course. She won’t be alive long enough to target your newest Maria Antonia again.”

About to inhale another sip of his bourbon, Jinyoung pauses to mull over the answer. He lowers his glass to his side before delivering Jaebeom a confused expression and a murmured inquiry, “What do you mean she won’t be alive?”

“Tzuyu and I got into an argument and, well, she pissed me off.” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom down the rest of his drink.

“Please tell me you didn’t bite her, Jaebeom-hyung.” He curses at the widening of Jaebeom’s smirk, slamming his glass back down on his desk with enough force to crack its exterior. “When I told you to deal with her, I didn’t mean condemn her to a fate of pain. If you wished to kill her, you could have at least been merciful and done it quick.”

“Last I checked, you said it yourself not to be kind.” Jinyoung follows Jaebeom as he pours himself another drink and collapses onto a brown, leather sofa. He tips his glass toward him with a smile before continuing, “I thought the punishment fit the crime, and we wouldn’t want to put helpless, human (Y/N) in danger again, would we?”

“You turned it off, didn’t you?” Jinyoung realizes, “Does holding onto your humanity wound you that badly, hyung? That you have no choice but to wish it away?”

“If I remember correctly, I’m not the only one that can’t hold onto their humanity… How many people did you kill in the ‘20s alone? One thousand? Maybe two?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m not that person anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” In the blink of an eye, Jaebeom is in front of Jinyoung—his glass in pieces on the floor beside him. He leans in until Jinyoung can taste the alcohol of his breath on his tongue, then whispers darkly, “You can lie to yourself all you fucking want, Jinyoung. But deep down, you’ll always know what you are… let’s just hope (Y/N) never finds out, hm?”

At the mention of your name, Jinyoung’s anger expands. He suppresses the urge to take the table beside him and smash it over the hybrid’s head, and instead inhales a deep breath. Jaebeom is only trying to provoke him—and he refuses to be a pawn in his foolish games.

“You will remember what it was like to feel human again.” Jinyoung sighs, “For your sake, I hope your remembrance comes sooner rather than later.”

Jaebeom tsks, “Being human is overrated.”

“He said the same thing about fate.” Both Jinyoung and Jaebeom whirl around at the appearance of a third voice. Jinyoung feels his blood begin to boil at the sight of the familiar vampire in the doorway, once again, suppressing his desire to launch a piece of furniture in her direction. “Ironically, fate and humanity are a package deal.”

Jaebeom growls, “What the fuck are you doing here, Tzuyu?”

“I came to try and convince you to give me your blood.” Tzuyu coughs, and Jinyoung swears he can hear the rattle of her bones. “But judging by your attitude, that’s obviously going to be harder than I thought.”

“You have courage for showing your face again.” Jinyoung crosses his arms with a dark hum, “Especially so soon after you nearly killed (Y/N).”

“It wasn’t my intention to kill her. I just wanted to send a message.”

“Is that so?” With a malicious glare, Jinyoung steps forward and tilts his head toward the vampire, “And what kind of message was that?”

“For (Y/N) to stay away from Jaebeom.” Another violent cough wracks through Tzuyu’s thin form, causing a light stream of blood to splatter from her lips. She wipes her mouth with a ragged breath before continuing, “Look, I did it for her own good. We all know his track record at keeping humans alive.”

“You did it to protect her!?” Jaebeom cackles, “Wow! That’s fucking priceless!”

“Say what you will, you both know I’m right.” Tzuyu says, propping herself up against a nearby bookshelf. “It’s either she ends up dead or is turned into a vampire—then again, there’s not much of a difference between the two, is there?”

“I would die before I allow (Y/N) to come to any harm.”

“The only issue with that is you can’t die, Jinyoung.” Jinyoung doesn’t take his eyes off Tzuyu as she grabs a bottle of brandy from the top shelf. It takes her literal seconds to unscrew the cap and down a good portion of the container. She licks her lips and says, “I’m sorry I attacked (Y/N), okay? I went too far. I won’t do it again.”

“You think an apology is enough to save your life?” Jaebeom snickers before snatching the alcohol from the vampire, “Think again, sweetheart.”

“What do you want from me, Jaebeom? Does seeing me die a slow, painful death bring you joy?”

He shrugs, “No one mourns for the wicked.”

“Is he always this much of an asshole?”

Jinyoung chuckles, “Pretty much.”

“Great.” The vampire breathes out a sigh and cards her fingers through her hair. After a brief moment of silence, she directs her attention back to Jaebeom and pleads—her voice packed with desperation and fear, “What can I do to convince you to let me live? Please, Jaebeom… I don’t want to die.”

“You should have thought about that before you touched what I told you not to.” Jinyoung remains quiet as Jaebeom lifts a hand to grasp Tzuyu’s jaw. The dying visitor remains unphased, proceeding to glare at the hybrid with hateful, yet oddly sorrowful eyes. “I suggest you show yourself out before I end your life sooner.”

“You’re going to lose everything one of these days, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu shakes her head sadly, wiping away a layer of cold sweat from her forehead. “You’re going to lose everyone, even your brother, and you’re going to be alone. For an eternity.”

“Save the monologue.” Jaebeom waves dismissively, taking a sip of the brandy before returning it back to its shelf. “Petty isn’t a good look for you, baby.”

“Fuck you, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu goes to stomp out the door, but something—someone blocks her path. The atmosphere changes when Jinyoung notices your panicked form, practically gasping for air and cross-eyed, standing in the doorway. He immediately speeds to your side without hesitation, grasping your hands in hopes to ground you.

He stares into your eyes, “What is it, (Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“You and Jaebeom have to get the hell out of here! Right now!”

Jaebeom shakes his head in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know what exactly happened but Minho turned Changbin into this dark werewolf creature or-or something… I do know, however, that Changbin is on his way right now to kill you both.” Jinyoung steps back at the intensity of your explanation, unable to think of a response over the roar of his thoughts. Through his peripheral vision, he can spot the same type of speechlessness across Jaebeom’s face.

Not again…

“That’s stupid… You realize nothing can kill them, right?” Tzuyu scoffs.

“This is different.” You urge, “I saw Changbin—he wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before… The spell that Minho used, it was-was—”

“Dark magic.” Jinyoung finishes blankly, “The spell was dark magic.”

“Yes… which means you and Jaebeom need to leave town as fast as you possibly can before—”

“I don’t think anyone is going anywhere, (Y/N).” Jinyoung’s entire body grows stiff as a new voice echoes throughout the study. He cautiously turns his head, discovering none other than the young werewolf in question resting among the shadows. His eye also catches the open window a few inches away, and he curses himself for ever wanting to feel the nightly draft.

Changbin’s smirk is as dark as his eyes.

“What?... Not going to offer me a drink?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“(Y/N)! Get out of here! Now!” Jaebeom hears Jinyoung scream as the werewolf suddenly launches forward, knocking his brother into the bookshelf behind him. The wood completely splinters beneath the impact, raining down an array of books and planks on Jinyoung’s body. Changbin turns to Jaebeom next, but the hybrid is ready—and pissed off.

Jaebeom speeds toward the intruder and delivers a swift kick to the gut. Changbin flies back at the force, crashing back through the window with a loud growl. Sensing the urgency in time, Jaebeom quickly throws Jinyoung’s immobile body over his shoulder and urges both you and Tzuyu out the study door.

“Come on! We gotta go!”

“Jaebeom! What the hell is happening!?” He ignores Tzuyu’s fearful ask and proceeds to lug Jinyoung through the maze of hallways and down the staircase, you and the female vampire hot on his heels. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, but he makes his way to the parlor where he props Jinyoung up against a nearby chair before turning to you:

“You need to leave. I will deal with this.”

“No way. I’m not going anywhere.” Jaebeom curses your stubbornness inside his head, sending a stern glare in your direction. Your expression remains fixated, and he can’t help but wish your presence in any other situation but now.

“I can’t protect you right now—”

“And I can’t sit back and watch you get yourselves killed!” You shake your head indignantly, “I’m staying!”

“Fucking hell, (Y/N)! Get your ass out that door before I throw you out myself!”

“Jaebeom, watch out!” At Tzuyu’s cue, a wooden branch comes soaring in through the window. Jaebeom immediately throws himself against you, effectively forcing your body to the ground to dodge the projectile. He can feel your fear through the trembling of your limbs and hurried breaths, but it only brings him more determination to tear apart his attacker.

He shakes his head in surrender, “You stay on the fucking ground, understand? Don’t you fucking dare move a muscle.” He doesn’t bother to wait for a response and pushes himself back to his feet.

Tzuyu is huddled in a corner, and Jinyoung has yet to awaken from his crash landing back in the study. Jaebeom tries to focus his senses on detecting the werewolf, but he can’t seem to hear anything past the beating of his own heart. He carefully makes his way over to the incapacitated vampire, attempting to force him back to consciousness.

“Now is really not the time for a fucking nap, Jinyoung.” He hisses, “I swear to god, if I have to save your ass one more time—” Another wave of tree branches come crashing through the windows. Unfortunately, Jaebeom is not as quick and one catches his shoulder at just the right angle. He feels the wood sink into his flesh, painfully carving into his bones. With a low groan, Jaebeom manages to grab the makeshift stake and remove it in one hefty pull.

He tosses it away with a yell, “You gonna hide like a little bitch!? Or are you gonna come out and fight like a man!?”

“Be careful what you wish for, asshole!” Jaebeom turns just in time to discover the werewolf emerging from a shattered window. His blood boils when he notices the sadistic grin along the young kid’s face—he wonders how those teeth will look strewn across the parlor floor.

Changbin comes at him fast, much faster than Jaebeom could have predicted. He manages to dodge a set of jabs, but he’s not so lucky when Changbin lands a heavy hit against the side of his face. Pain erupts through his jaw as he collapses to the floor, but Jaebeom doesn’t have the chance to dwell over it and rolls out of the way just as the werewolf attempts to stomp his nose.

Jaebeom tries to speed away again, but like before, his counterpart is faster. Changbin manages to force him to the floor for a second time, pinning his body down with his own. Horrified, the hybrid watches as the werewolf’s eyes glow blood red and large, pitch black fangs emerge past his parted lips. Once again, he attempts to break free, but it’s no use—Changbin is too strong.

Just when he believes the wolf’s fangs are going to sink into his neck, another form knocks Changbin away. Jaebeom hurriedly props himself on his arms in time to watch Tzuyu deliver a series of hits and kicks to the perpetrator, eventually slamming his head into a nearby armoire. Taking advantage of the moment, she turns from Changbin to Jaebeom instead:

“Grab Jinyoung and (Y/N) and run!” She screams, “Get the hell of here!”

Unable to move, Jaebeom remains as Tzuyu attempts to fight off the wolf. But with the combination of his ultimate strength and her weakness from Jaebeom’s venom, her defeat is inevitable. He watches in terror as Changbin sinks his teeth into the vampire’s arm before yanking her head forward and effectively snapping her neck. Jaebeom feels his insides practically soar with rage when the attacker tosses a comatose Tzuyu across the room like a useless toy.

“I’ll kill you…” He sneers, allowing his own supernatural features to overtake his face. “I’ll fucking kill you…”

Changbin shakes his head with a smirk, “I’d like to see you try.”

Using the little agility he has left, Jaebeom grabs one of the branches and speeds toward the wolf. Due to Changbin’s movements, he misses his chest, but manages to stab the weapon in his stomach. Changbin releases a pained groan, allowing Jaebeom to take advantage of his surprise and land another array of uppercuts to his face. Just when he finally thinks he has the upper hand, his opponent blocks one of his hits and pins him against a wall with a hand around his throat.

“Any last words, Prime?”

“You really think you can kill me?” Jaebeom growls, squirming against Changbin’s hold.

“I know I can… Have fun rotting in Hell—fuck!”

Shock spills through Jaebeom’s veins as the point of branch suddenly appears through the center of the wolf’s chest, splattering red across both of their bodies. Changbin’s grip releases, allowing the hybrid to quickly speed out of his reach. Once he’s a safe distances away, Jaebeom looks to his savior, discovering the one person he never expected to see—

You stand over Changbin’s body—chest heaving and bloodied hands trembling. Your eyes are glassy when Jaebeom meets your gaze, and for some reason, he feels the urge to go and pull your form into a tight embrace. Your voice, however, returns his mind to reality:

“Did I… Did I kill him?”

“I don’t think so.” Jaebeom answers, nursing his wound with his own shaky fingers. “We need to get out of here—get somewhere safe.”

“Good idea.” You trudge over to where Jinyoung is still unconsciously laid across the chair. Jaebeom follows your lead and hurries over to a lifeless Tzuyu. “I know somewhere we can go… but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“(Y/N)... There is an immortal, unkillable super wolf out to kill me and my brother currently in my living room…” He snorts, maneuvering Tzuyu’s body into one arm and assisting you and Jinyoung with the other.

“Trust me, anywhere is a hell of a lot better than here…”

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riversofmars · 3 years

Note

Hi there!! I just want to say that I love your writing so much <3 and I have a prompt if you want one? Some hurt/comfort for River/13 where one of them gets hurt during one of their adventures and the other one looks after them ??

Thank you for two brilliant prompts! I haven't done hurt/comfort in a while so this was good! Plus, love the idea of exploring more things that were implied but not actually shows in canon (got another fic brewing for that as well but more on that another time!). Anyway, I decided to do a follow up from Companion Piece and River getting home to Luna University, shortly before heading off to the Library. You don't have to know Companion Piece to follow this though, it's all self-explanatory. Turned out more emotional and angsty than planned but I hope you like it! <3

Rating: G

Word Count: 2700

Read on AO3 or below

Every Second, For Eternity

“There we go…“ River sighed, exhausted. “Last one…“ She closed the door of the type 70 TARDIS she had borrowed. Well, borrowed implied she would return it, she had no intention of doing that. Stolen, maybe? Probably more accurate… but then, was it really stealing if the owner had no use of it anymore? The Clocksmith was dead and the Nine had stolen it himself, so River considered keeping it fair game. Particularly since the Nine had done God knows what to her Vortex Manipulator.

“Home, I think…“ She mumbled into the silence of the control room. The TARDIS was certainly not as responsive as the Doctor’s but she still considered it alive and worth talking to. Particularly since she had no-one else to converse with now. She missed them already, all the Doctor’s lovely friends and companions she had had the brief pleasure of meeting. Being able to put faces to names had been a delight but they all needed returning to their time periods before the timelines took damage.

“Does feel like a bit of a farewell tour, doesn’t it…?“ River slowly worked the controls and launched into the vortex. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the torture the Nine had put her through, but she thought, for the first time in her life, she could feel her age in her bones.

I feel like I’m almost at the end now… They had been her own words and they hit home. She had gotten a sense of it when she had been in the Matrix and spoken to the Doctor, a Doctor that didn’t even know her… No matter where and when they were in their timeline, no matter which face they wore, she loved them all the same. Another adventure, running with the Doctor, ticked off the list. How many more adventures did she have left in her? She couldn’t be sure. Her body was starting to ache all over as the last traces of adrenaline wore off.

“Now, you don’t go anywhere…“ She told the TARDIS as they landed and slowly made her way to the door. Exhaustion was taking her over. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept… Must have been in that hotel in Stagmore where she’d bolted early upon the Doctor’s arrival and forgot to pay her bill. Mustn’t forget to transfer some money , she thought to herself, hoping she could remember the correct temporal coordinates.

The TARDIS’s door opened to the familiar surroundings of her flat on the Luna University campus. Home at last. Or the closest thing to it, anyway, when your real home was out among the stars, travelling, doing whatever the hell they wanted… One of them was probably just collecting his friend from a space station, or so she hoped. Not everyone had wanted a lift home from the space station the Nine had kept them captive in. Only an insane kleptomaniac would attempt to make a collection of the Doctor’s companions…

“Nice cabinet.“ A voice greeted her and River looked up, surprised, but only for a moment.

“Oh, you know, actually working chameleon circuit…“ River smiled softly as she regarded the woman leaning against a TARDIS of her own. Fortunately, River’s living room was rather large to accommodate the Clocksmith’s TARDIS and that of her spouse.

“Hello, River.“ The Doctor replied, pushing herself off the blue box.

“Hello, Doctor.“ River hummed, delighted but exhausted as well. She tried her best to sound upbeat as she teased: “Did you get yourself a chameleon circuit of your own or has the universe finally answered my prayers?“

“You like it?“ The Doctor grinned, taking a twirl, and River chuckled:

“Like is not the word…“ She winked and was going to saunter towards her but she found herself stumbling. She grabbed onto the couch for support. Her legs were about to give way.

“River, are you okay?“ The Doctor’s face fell when she realised something was wrong. She rushed forward and put her arm around her wife’s waist, steadying her.

“I’ll be fine in a minute…“ River took a deep breath. She didn’t like to show weakness, not even in front of the Doctor, but her body was betraying her. She had underestimated the toll recent events had taken. She had been to Gallifrey, faced off against renegade Time Lords, been drawn into the Matrix, cast out into the Vortex, and all that just to be kidnapped and tortured for information on the Doctor’s friends… it had been quite the adventure… Slowly, she was beginning to realise how much her body ached all over.

“I don’t think so, what happened to you?“ The Doctor sensed that something was very wrong. She pulled her sonic from her pocket and scanned her wife. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Your muscles, your joints, every cell in your body, good God, River, what happened to you?“ She exclaimed and the momentary panic in her voice made River realise the seriousness of her situation. It was as if all the muscles in her body had fallen asleep and were waking up with pins and needles, very very sharp, painful needles.

“The Nine really knows how to take the fun out of torture…“ River winced, she needed to sit down.

“The Nine?“ The Doctor echoed confused and concerned. She helped her around the sofa and to sit down.

“Ah, well, good to know I wiped everyone’s memory properly… and the girls kept my secret.“ River chuckled despite her discomfort. The fact that the Doctor didn’t know about her encounter with the Nine meant she hadn’t endangered the timeline and everything had worked out just fine… apart from the piercing pain she was in.

“The Nine… you mean when he was kidnapping my old companions? You were there too?“ The Doctor realised what she was talking about. These events had been lifetimes ago and she had only been told about them in retrospect.

“Jaime, Bliss, Charly, Ramona… Leela, now, let me tell you, wiping her memory was a challenge I enjoyed…“ River gave a chuckle but ended up wincing. “Returned them all to the right time and place… I take it you picked up Liv and Helen? Were they okay in the end?“

“Yeah I got them, they were fine.“ The Doctor nodded and River smiled:

“That’s alright then…“

“Whatever you were doing, you wore yourself out.“ The Doctor said, brushing her wife’s frizzy hair back.

“You’d be exhausted too if you’d had to get hallucinogenic lipstick on all your companions’ lips… you collect them like strays…“ River smirked, teasingly.

“River!“ The Doctor exclaimed but River shushed her:

“Fine, fine, that wasn’t really a hardship, more likely the Nine’s delightful torture machine has taken more of a toll than I realised…“ She trembled, she could hardly move but tried her best to put on a brave face.

“Oh River…“ The Doctor’s heart broke at the sight of her and she gathered her into her arms.

“I’ll be fine…“ River retorted weakly but she didn’t resist the caring gesture. It felt good to be held, to be close to her.

“You helped save them all…“ The Doctor mumbled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.“

“Well, I was largely responsible for them being there in the first place… I had to give him some names… just made sure they were the right ones to stage a breakout.“ River explained weakly. She winced as she tried to get more comfortable.

“Very resourceful.“ The Doctor nodded approvingly and River smiled too:

“Yes, they are. Your friends.“ An unbidden sob escaped her throat.

“River…“ the Doctor’s voice was full of concern and she scanned her again. “Let’s get you to bed…“ She suggested and helped her up. She needed rest. There wasn’t much to be done. Her body needed to recover from the trauma, like sore muscles after intense exercise but infinitely worse. The fact that River didn’t protest made her realise just how much pain she was in. Under normal circumstances, she never would allow herself to be told what to do.

The Doctor helped her up and supported her as they slowly made their way into the adjourning bedroom. The Doctor only briefly registered the pictures on her bedside table: Photos of her parents, her adoptive brother, and one of them, together, at the Singing Towers. The Doctor smiled at the memory of happier times as she helped River into bed.

“I’ll be right back.“ She assured her wife and went into the bathroom, only to return with a glass of water and a wet flannel.

“Do you remember it?“ River mumbled as the Doctor kicked off her boots and climbed onto the bed next to her wife. She placed the flannel on her head and pressed the glass to her lips, encouraging her to drink.

“Remember what?“ She asked softly, brushing River’s hair back that was sticking to her brow with sweat.

“What I said in the Matrix.“ River answered before taking a sip of water.

“I didn’t use to remember, too much interference in there… I didn’t remember it for a long time after…“ The Doctor admitted, searching her mind for the memory.

“Funny… so that wasn’t your first meeting with me either…“ River mused as the Doctor placed the glass on the bedside table. “Every time I meet one of your younger selves, I wonder itf that’s it, the first time, for you…“ She carried on to explain, watching her through heavy eyelids.

“You know which ones of my faces you can be honest to…“ The Doctor replied and sat up against the headboard.

“I do… but then, I also know you lie, so…“ River managed a half-smile and rested her head on her wife’s lap.

“I remember it now, looking back, all those times we met but I didn’t know who you were… I remember it now.“ The Doctor smiled, hoping to distract her from the pain she could so clearly see painted on her face.

“In the Matrix, when we exchanged places… it’s a funny old place, isn’t it, the Matrix and the Vortex… makes you see things…“ River hummed thoughtfully, trying to recall the events as best as she could.

“River, you’re exhausted, you need to rest…“ The Doctor tried to soothe her but River felt the need to keep talking, to work this out for herself, before she could think about closing her eyes.

“I could feel it… like I was almost at my destination… I thought that was it, genuinely, that I would die there and if not there, soon…“ She couldn’t quite explain it, how she had known, but she could feel her journey coming to an end.

“You’re safe now.“ The Doctor stroked her hair, hoping he would drop off into sleep and not face more emotional upheaval. She had to focus on getting well.

“I always feel safe with you…“ River smiled and forced her eyes to open properly, to be able to look up at her. “How much time have we got left?“ She asked the most burning question on her mind.

“We’re time travellers River, time is for other people…“ The Doctor replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Doctor…“ River protested weakly.

“How many seconds in eternity?“ The Doctor retorted airily. River was in no condition to be having this conversation.

“Says the immortal…“ River huffed. “I can feel it, Doctor, my time is running out… I saw that there was a fixed point, something I’m heading towards…“ It was an unsettling thought that wouldn't allow her to rest.

“River, you really ought to get some sleep…“ The Doctor instead but she wasn’t having it.

“This isn’t it, is it? The last time?“ River’s voice was distraught and weakening. “I used to think Darillium would be the end…“

“That was one hell of a night…“ The Doctor interrupted softly.

“It really was…“ River smiled at the memory of it. “You won’t leave, will you? If I fall asleep…“ She was struggling to keep her eyes open now but she didn’t want to go to sleep. She didn’t want to wake up alone as she had done so many times.

“Someone’s got to look after you…“ The Doctor smiled, she had no intention of leaving her until she was sure her wife would be okay. “And you’re not gonna die, now, either. As if the Nine could take credit for that. No. I know that for a fact, you have adventures to go on yet.“ She kissed the top of her head again and adjusted the flannel.

“That’s good to know… Mind you, there is this place I’ve been meaning to go…“ River hummed, feeling a little more relaxed.

“Yeah? Where is that?“ The Doctor asked, hoping to help her focus on something positive, something to look forward to.

“Biggest Library in the universe… I’ve had the invitation to an expedition ages ago and kept putting it off…“ River answered softly.

The Doctor remained quiet, she didn’t know what to say. Either response would feel wrong. If she encouraged her, she would be encouraging her to go to her death, she couldn’t do so with a steady voice, with conviction, she couldn’t bring herself to say it. And at the same time, she couldn’t tell her not to go. She would be endangering causality, damage her own timeline, damage her relationship with River, at worst, destroy it, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. So she remained quiet, her hearts weighing her down on the bed as they grew heavy.

“There’ll be stories there, the stories about us…“ River gave a faint smile.

“I dread to think…“ The Doctor huffed, entangling her fingers in her wife’s hair.

“Why?“

“Stories are just that, they’re stories, they’re not…“ The Doctor broke off. Stories couldn’t compare to reality, much like a consciousness in a computer couldn’t compare to the real person…

“We’re all just stories in the end…“ River threw the Doctor’s own words back at her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to argue with herself. And when she didn’t, she carried one: “And we've had some amazing stories…“ She smiled as she closed her eyes. “We’ve come such a long way… Kovarian, the Silence…“

“I’m so sorry about what they did to you…“ The Doctor interjected softly, her hearts aching at the memory of what had been done to her. River’s childhood had been taken from her.

“It’s not your fault.“ River sighed, shaking her head as much as she could while lying down.

“It happened because of me…“ The Doctor insisted.

“And if it hadn’t, I would have never met you.“ River interrupted weakly. “Every part of my story… I’m grateful, for all of it, every last bit, every detour, every adventure… no matter how terrifying, no matter how painful, even all those times you didn't know me…“

“I’m sorry… for the times I didn’t know you.“ The Doctor sighed. She could only imagine how painful it must have been for River to see that lack of recognition and feeling in her eyes.

“So many first times… and still not the right one.“ River mused, tiptoeing the edge of sleep.

“One day… but not too soon.“ The Doctor mumbled.

“Will I see you there?“ River asked softly.

“Where?“ The Doctor frowned and River hummed:

“The Library?“

“Maybe…“ The Doctor answered, trying her best to keep her emotions out of her voice. “If you invite me…“

“As if you could stay away…“ River whispered, slowly drifting out of consciousness.

“Never when you call.“ The Doctor answered, caressing her cheek as River’s breaths grew more even, deep and slow. She looked exhausted and spent but peaceful nonetheless. River Song was formidable, strong and true. Her journey was nearly at an end and it broke the Doctor’s heart as she held her wife. “I love you.“ She spoke into the silence of the flat. No-one, not even the Doctor knew what the future had in store for them. For all she knew, the universe could end tomorrow or it could stretch out for all eternity… whichever it was, the Doctor knew her love for River Song would pass the test of time. Every second, she would hold her love close, every second, for eternity.

#Doctor Who #fanfiction #prompt #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #space wives #femslash #whump #hurt/comfort #general #yowzah #river x thirteen #river x the doctor #companion piece #angst #mild angst

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fallenfurther · 3 years

Text

TAG Minibang 2021

I had the pleasure of being partnered with @godsliltippy for the @tagminibang.

Click here to see @godsliltippy's amazing picture which goes with this fic, in which Scott and Gordon spend some time together on Thunderbird Four. I had great fun putting these two in a confined space and I hope you enjoy what came about. Enjoy!

The Refresher

Scott slipped the box of food rations into the compartment next to a large unopened box of celery crunch bars. He rolled his eyes knowing there were more scattered throughout the craft. He wondered how many of the fresh supplies his brother would consume with his favourite alternative present. Virgil had expressed concern on more than one occasion about Gordon's diet on extended underwater expeditions, but Scott tried not to pry too much. The aquanaut never seemed to suffer any ill effects. The man in question strode into the submarine with a grin and air of authority, tapping the button to close the airlock without a backwards glance. The mechanism clicking into place, sealing them in.

"Ready to learn the ropes?" Gordon cheered, eagerly rubbing his gloved hands together.

"It's a refresher course with a small mapping expedition for the Environmental Agency added on."

"Trust me Scott, this baby is nothing like Thunderbird One. She handles better, is calmer and still nippy when required. I'll be taking her out first, I want to get her there on schedule and in one piece."

Scott sighed, wanting to quip back about how he was the one who always brought her back in pieces, but knew it was still too raw for his brother. Shutting the compartment, with a little more force than necessary, he followed Gordon into the cockpit and sat in the temporary seat behind the man. His eyes scanned the area and he was pleased to see no wrappers on the floor. Kayo had warned them about the mess after her last excursion in Thunderbird Four, however they were all aware of what Gordon was like. It was nice to see he had tidied up beforehand, so at least Scott would only have to deal with fresh mess. The aquanaut started running through the prelaunch checks, and Scott ticked each one off his mental checklist. The submarine jolted as the mechanism started to lower them into the water tank and the exit hatch came into view. The lock disengaged, the doors opened before them as the submarine's engines started to rumble behind them. The vibrations grew as the pitch changed and the machine propelled itself forward.

"Thunderbird Four is go!"

"FAB," John responded, "try not to kill him, Scott."

Scott grinned while Gordon feigned hurt, a hand leaving the controls to cover his heart. It was a running family joke, all of them having been cooped up with Gordon at some point. Although Alan swore blind their trip to Europa was the worst, but at least Thunderbird Three was large enough to have some mild privacy and space. Everything was pokey on Thunderbird Four, particularly the toilet. It thankfully had a privacy screen but there was barely enough room to stand up, let alone unzip their uniforms. It probably explained why John had been graced with Gordon's bottom on his last refresher. Why use a screen when you're the only one on board, was Gordon's response. When John had pointed out his own presence Gordon had said he was making John feel more at home by showing him the moon. John did report that Gordon had used the screen for the rest of their trip. Scott hoped he would be spared the same treatment. Sitting back, Scott observed his brother at the controls as they entered the open ocean. The sonar gently flashed to Gordon's left, relaying occasional glimpses of hazards and giving a reasonably detailed map of the sea bed. The little yellow arrow that indicated their craft stayed steady on the red line of the plotted course. It crossed Scott's mind that they would have been at their destination by now had they been on Thunderbird One. Rolling his shoulders, Scott sat back, stretched his feet out before him and tried to relax. It was going to be a long first day.

The morning was interspersed with sporadic bouts of chatter from Gordon. Scott smiled as he listened, making the right noises and offering his opinions when required. He didn't share his brother's enthusiasm for the sea, but had great respect for his knowledge and experience as Gordon identified the various creatures which passed the craft. With one of Four's tablets in his lap, Scott inputted the sightings into the database alongside the GPS coordinates, ready to be submitted after the trip was complete. There was no need to report them straight away and to do so would give away Thunderbird Four's position and possibly bring unwanted attention. John and EOS monitored many websites where enthusiasts shared their Thunderbird sightings, marking possible hot spots on maps and predicting flight paths. Apparently there had been many meetups, a few of which had successfully predicted a Thunderbird sighting. EOS was certain it was coincidental, but precautions were taken after a holidaying oceanographer tracked Thunderbird Four down using Gordon's data. International Rescue promptly stopped submitting data, instead switching between five umbrella accounts. This trip's data was being submitted by Dippy, the personal deep water submarine of Doctor R Yang. Scott hadn't been too impressed with Gordon's suggestion of Doctor Angry, but EOS had suggested Doctor R Yang as a suitable plausible alternative and assured him that would be unlikely to be questioned. Gordon also managed to wrangle a sea themed one as well, much to Scott's displeasure.

Scott retrieved lunch, eating his first before taking the helm. His hand slipped into the holds, his body shifting at the unfamiliarity of the position. Pulling on the controls the machine continued on. Scott's eyes were glued to the sonar, adjusting the propulsion when the craft deviated from course.

"Relax, Scott. You're making it harder on yourself. Small subtle adjustments is all you need." Gordon butted in after the seventh course correction in the ten minutes Scott had been piloting. "There are no flight paths to worry about. A little deviation from the line isn't going to hurt and EOS will even autocorrect it if you stray too far."

Scott loosened his grip on the controls, allowing the blood to run back into his white knuckles. His shoulders slumped. Why was it so different to pilot Thunderbird Four when on a rescue? He swore it was never this hard, or maybe he just never noticed how tense he was or the small things he was doing wrong. The memory of Gordon instructing him from Tracy Island when retrieving the escape pod came to mind. Taking a deep breath, Scott twisted the controls, taking a large arch to get back on course.

"I know you fly Thunderbird One blind, but you should be able to look up and out the window while steering Thunderbird Four. You'll be surprised by what you can see, especially on a leisure journey like this."

"This is a training exercise."

"Exactly, it's for practicing. There's no rush. We have time to get you feeling relaxed at the helm, to let you learn the way she feels and responds."

Scott sat back, making the most of the ergonomic seat, knowing that Gordon was right. Knowing he'd said the same thing when he'd been refreshing Gordon on Thunderbird One. Despite his carefree joking nature, Gordon knew when to be serious and he had tensed up at the controls of Thunderbird One. Virgil had pointed out later that night that just Scott's presence watching would have put Gordon off. Much like Alan tried to please, putting in his all to prove his worth, there were still times when Gordon wanted to impress his older brother and not let him down. Thankfully, a few hours in the sky, and some practice launching and descending had Gordon handling Thunderbird One with ease. Pride had filled Scott, seeing how well Gordon had recovered from his injuries and how easily he slipped back into International Rescue. His younger brother had a unique way of bouncing back and his resilience made him seem indestructible.

Scott flicked his attention back to the here and now. His hands still grasped the controls a little too firmly, but he started flicking his eyes between the projection and water around them. To his untrained eye, the lamps barely illuminated anything and there was nothing to see. Gordon however seemed to spot things he couldn't. By the end of the journey, Scott's arms were aching from the consistent outstretched position and was thankful when Gordon took over. Rolling his shoulders and stretching out his arms, he took the seat behind Gordon. In Thunderbird One there was no need for stamina as she was never in flight for long. Clicking his shoulder brought some relief.

"You'll get used to it," Gordon responded to the sound.

Scott rolled his eyes knowing too well he would never be in Thunderbird Four long enough to become used to it. It was one long training dive a year, with day refreshers as and when required. Gordon guided the craft towards the surface. Finally Scott could see clearly through the glass. Before them was a vast coastline that contained various caves that required remapping. They were a long way from the nearest city, though the nearest settlement wasn't much closer. Gordon guided the submarine along until they came to the buoy which marked the entrance to the caves. Submerging again, Gordon spiralled them around the buoy's line until they were fifteen meters down before clamping onto the metal cable. A light flashed green.

"All secure. Let's grab some grub before turning in. I know it's early but I know you barely slept thanks to that rescue."

Scott was about to complain when he yawned. Gordon was right, he had barely slept the night before, having run around after the rescue getting everything ready for this trip. Scott followed his brother out the back, ducking through the hatch.

"I bet times like these you wished Thunderbird Four was as spacious as Stingray."

Scott chanced the conversation. Since the hydrofoil accident Gordon had been less forthcoming with details about his time in WASP. It had bonded them at first, Scott's military service giving him an understanding about what Gordon was going through, with his younger brother messaging him for advice on occasion. It frizzled out towards the end as they both got busy, something Scott regretted. Gordon paused, but gave his brother a grin as he grabbed two ration packs from the box Scott had brought.

"Nah. Sure, you get your own room, but you also have to deal with Troy. I was right next to his room and his late night visitors weren't always quiet. I miss relaxing with the guys though. Marina and Phones were a blast. We had some good times together."

Scott only just caught the packet thrown his way, catching it by the edge between two fingers. Gordon chuckled as he headed to the hot water dispenser.

"I gotta keep you on your toes."

Scott followed the aquanaut, rubbing his hand through his brother's hair as he moved out the way.

"Hey!" Gordon squawked, cradling his food as he attempted to duck.

Scott ignored the complaint, filling his own pack and noting he'd been thrown beef bourguignon, mash and peas. He already knew Gordon would have Mac and Cheese without looking. Scott had deliberately only brought one along as well as removing the can of squirty cheese from its hiding place. There was only so much Scott could tolerate in a confined space and they were set to be down here a while. They sat in two of the rescue seats and ate off their laps. There was no need for formalities when living in confined quarters.

"This always reminds me of survival training. Eating out of packets perched on a rock or stump, though I'm glad Brains makes them taste better. We were always told that they are called survival rations, not gourmet food-to-go."

Gordon nodded, chewing his current mouthful. A smile crossed his face.

"I lost a bet with Troy during my …. second week on Stingray. He made me eat survival rations for a day. I didn't know they came in different flavours as he only gave me one choice; beef stew. Tasted like cardboard. I got him back though."

"Sounds familiar," Scott chuckled, scraping out the last of his meal. He threw the packet in the trash and grabbed the bag of cookies he'd stowed away. His brother's eyes lit up. Scott ripped it open and deposited two into his awaiting hand before taking two himself. He sealed them up and tucked them away, knowing they'd probably be gone by tomorrow night. He retrieved two hammocks and blankets from one of the underfloor storage holds and handed one of each to Gordon. Unravelling the strong yellow material, he clipped it to the holds in the ceiling before grabbing his wash bag and heading to the sink. He watched as Gordon sorted out his own hammock before joining Scott at the small sink. It was a little cramped, the two of them leaning down to make sure they actually spat into the bowl, but it worked. With no need to change clothes, being in such a small submarine required them to be ready for a leak at any point, so Scott climbed into his bed for the night. It took him a moment to get comfortable, his body not used to the feeling of being cradled by fabric. Beside him Gordon had hopped into his and was swinging gently.

"Like the sailors of old, we sleep in our hammocks and are rocked to sleep by the sea."

There was a crunch and Scott sighed. He had no idea where it had come from but it didn't matter. Brains had found celery crunch bars all over the craft during maintenance.

"Keep it to one. I don't want to be woken by you crunching throughout the night."

"Spoil sport," Gordon grumbled, before peeking over the yellow material at Scott with a grin. "Fancy a sea shanty?"

Scott groaned, hands grasping his head, as laughter filled the submarine. The main lights were turned off as Gordon started singing, a small light on his side of the submarine casting him in an eerie green glow. It was going to be a long week.

********

"Okay, we need to head down the left tunnel."

Gordon watched as Scott turned the controls. His brother was coping well considering Scott wasn't the most patient person and was used to making larger, brasher movements. His brother did have laser focus though, eyes glued to the sonar where a small version on the submarine was actively being projected in real time. Gordon has given up telling Scott to not rely on it solely, old habits dying hard. Granted, it was day three of their trip and they had just entered the deeper, smaller caverns having mapped the larger ones yesterday. The muscles beneath Scott's uniform were a mass of stiff tense knots as the man guided the machine around a tight bend. The caves weren't particularly small by his standards but for someone unused to the kind of manipulation required to transverse them, they were constricting. Brains had already mentioned to Gordon that he had plenty of fresh paint ready for when they got back. He had laughed at the engineer's lack of confidence, but had been grateful all the same. There were already a few spots on Thunderbird Four that needed a touch up, and by the way Scott was turning the craft, there was about to be another.

Gordon sat back, trying not to say anything and let his brother learn. He watched his brother make a small adjustment, a little overzealous increase in the starboard turbine impeller which tipped her nose a little too far to the left, making contact with rock inevitable. The submarine edged forward. Scott realised what was happening and tried to correct it. The nose rose away from the rock wall and towards the center of the tunnel. Gordon could see the tension in the man's jaw increase, which he didn’t think was possible. Just as Scott thought he'd saved it, there was the tell-tale clunk of rock hitting metal near the back of the craft and a thankfully short screech as it scratched the hull. Scott growled in frustration, twisting the controls and setting Thunderbird Four onto a straight course through the tunnel while turning off the engine. Instead he let the craft drift and put his head in his hands. Gordon gave his brother time, watching the man’s fingers twist and scrape their way through normally neat styled hair. Gordon reached out and placed a hand on Scott's shoulder.

"You're getting there. These aren't easy tunnels and they are unknown to you."

"I …" Scott's hand slipped down his face, "I should be able to do this. I'm sorry I've scratched her."

Gordon swallowed. Scott rarely showed vulnerability, and especially not to him. Despite having Dad back, his brother still shouldered too much, and this just showed how close to breaking point he had been. Maybe Scott needed this time away more than he'd like to admit.

"Scratches can be buffed out and painted over," Gordon spoke softly as he knelt beside his brother, "I've given her a fair few over the years."

Scott's hair was poking out of fists now and all Gordon could do was wrap his arms around the man and be there. He rested his chin against tense muscles and gazed into the corner of the cockpit. His eyes started picking out small details, like a smudge of oil at the bottom of the wall where Virgil had touched it during the last biannual maintenance. His brother often helped Brains if he was free and it had been quiet on the rescue front, and Brains wouldn't have let his hands get so dirty. There was a sliver of a celery crunch bar wrapper poking out from around the edge of the small storage compartment which also held a first aid kit. He could spot the grime he'd missed in the clean he'd done. Gordon felt the rise and fall of Scott's shoulders as he shifted his head so he could glimpse the sonar out the corner of his eye. They were still suspended in the middle of the tunnel, Thunderbird Four's buoyancy keeping her from sinking to the rocky floor. Gordon had no idea how long they were like that, and didn't care to know, but Scott finally took a deep breath and straightened up. There was a steely look in his eyes and a new resolve in the way he grasped the controls. Gordon sat back as Thunderbird Four's turbines started turning again.

"I'm only going to improve by keeping at it." There was conviction in the man voice, "I'll set some time aside on Tuesday to buff out all the scratches "

"I'm sure Brains will be happy to do it."

Scott opened and closed his mouth. They both knew Brains would be quicker and more efficient than Scott, who rarely had to buff anything out of Thunderbird One. The cockpit was silent as Scott concentrated, slowly making his way along the tunnels. Gordon gave the odd directional instruction, trying to leave the man to it. There had been a few more swear words during Scott's attempt to turn around at a dead end, having added a few more small scratches to the paintwork. He gradually became faster as his confidence slowly grew as they headed deeper into the system.

"Should we think about turning around?"

Gordon grabbed the tablet and compared their current section to the thirty two year old map produced on the last official excursion. There was only one more tunnel off of this section and he agreed they could probably call it a day. Scott was in need of some time away from the controls.

*******

Scott stretched as he vacated the seat and handed it over to Gordon. He had to bend to stretch his arms out completely, but he did so with a yawn. His body was stiff from being in the same position for so long. Without any guilt he left Gordon to turn the submarine around and headed out back to grab some water. He filled up his standard issue water bottle, a blue iR embossed metal canister, from the tap and greedily gulped half of it. After refilling it, he also filled Gordon's and headed back. As much as he wanted to lie down and try and ease the tension from his muscles, he didn't want to leave Gordon alone. His brother thrived with company, often resorting to telling jokes over the comm when he was alone. Scott placed the canister in its slot on the main seat before sitting down.

Gordon had pulled up the quickest route out the cavern system and had started to leave the tunnel Scott had just finished scanning. As they reached the main tunnel Thunderbird Four's pace increased, it was still slow for the craft but a fair bit faster than Scott had been comfortable to go when he was in control. Gordon didn't bat an eyelid, eyes focused on the rock that passed by the window. His brother's hands gripped the controls in a firm but relaxed manner, his movements were smooth, subtle and the submarine reacted similarly. She glided through the tunnels like she'd been traversing them for years, though Scott knew she hadn't. Gordon was confident at the helm, taking tight turns at speeds that worried Scott to the point he sat back in his seat and held on. It felt strange to be a lover of speed, getting a thrill from being forced back into his seat, yet being uncomfortable that they were going so fast while going so slow.

Thunderbird Four smoothly rounded a junction where Scott had scratched her, her frame tilting with the angle of the turn. Scott was mesmerized by his brother's faultless handling. Glancing at the map, Scott saw the dip coming up which narrowed considerably afterwards. Gordon wasn't perturbed, gliding into the dip and pulling her up with pace. The rock below was clearly visible in the light and the odd protrusion came so close Scott swore they would brush against it. They didn't. Thankfully Gordon reduced his speed as the tunnel narrowed, but at no point did worry or concern cross the man's face. He glided the Thunderbird through the tunnels as if it had been designed solely for the purpose. It had taken them the best part of seven hours to get to the point they had, granted they, he, had been taking it slow due to the nature of their task, however a mere forty minutes of skilled piloting later and they burst into the open ocean once again. Relief filled Scott who hadn't realised how much the close confines of the caves had been affecting him. Gordon took them up to the surface and bright sunlight burst through forcing Scott to cover his eyes.

"Thought we deserved a bit of fresh air."

Gordon gave Scott a cheeky grin as he started putting the submarine in standby. The waves sparkled as they lapped at the hull. Gordon activated the seat allowing him to do some acrobatics to get into the main compartment. Scott rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and followed him. Gordon opened up one of the compartments and started rummaging. Scott leant against the other side, crossed his arms and took in his brother. A proud smile spread across his face. They each had their own set of skills and he had just witnessed what a competent aquanaut could do. WASP must have been gutted when he hadn't returned after his recovery. Even if they didn't let him on Stingray, Gordon's skills would have still been a great addition to the force. Instead, he'd joined his brothers in their Dad's legacy, becoming their only aquanaut. Scott was proud of all his brothers but it was moments like this, when they unintentionally showed off how amazing they were, that made their sacrifices worth it.

Gordon turned around with an armful of snacks and fizzy drinks, and Scott couldn't help but laugh. His brother sauntered to the airlock and Scott hurried to open it, picking up the treat that had fallen to the floor. The fresh crisp sea air wafted in and Scott's lungs breathed deeply. There was land to their left and open water to their right. Gordon plonked himself down and dropped his legs into the water. Scott sat beside him, crossing his legs not wanting to spend the next few days with salt stuck to them. He playfully slapped Gordon on the head with the celery crunch bar he'd dropped before swapping it with a bottle of cola.

********

"Okay, with this next turn you have to glide in pointing towards the corner then pulling round as the front gets to the bend."

Scott set his eyes on the corner, trying to visualise the curve Gordon wanted him to take. After yesterday's disaster Scott was determined to reduce the amount of scratches Brains was going to need to buff out, and had swallowed his pride. There had been no jeering from his brother, instead just a nod. Under Gordon's clear guidance Scott had only given the submarine a minor scratch and he was starting to feel a little less stressed about how close the cavern walls were. Scott did as Gordon instructed, still going at a much slower pace than his brother would, and managed to clear the corner in a smooth motion with inches to spare. Scott was already scouting out the route ahead, eyes spending more time peering out the window than glued to the sonar, when John popped up in front of him.

"Sorry to interrupt your training trip, but we have a situation that requires Thunderbird Four."

Scott was up and out the chair in a flash. The pair swapped places as Gordon switched to the old map. Hands on the controls they started heading to a suitable turning point.

"Have Thunderbird Two ready outside for a pick up."

Scott grabbed the tablet from its holder. It lit up immediately as John sent the rescue details to the craft.

"Thunderbird Two is currently attached to a container ship in an attempt to stop its contents from spilling into the sea. Alan is in a submarine pod, but it just doesn't have enough power to keep the ship from sinking. It's only forty minutes from your current location. Thunderbird Two should just about be able to hold it until then."

"FAB, John."

Scott surveyed the map as Gordon weaved his way out the cave system with the same agility as yesterday, but with a little more haste. Once out, Scott flicked the route onto the aquanaut’s screen, who responded by hitting the throttle with enough force to push Scott back in his seat.

"I can make it in thirty five easily," Gordon gloated.

Scott nodded, eyes skimming over Thunderbird Two's statistics before opening up John's scans of the situation and the 'dash cam' of the green giant. The ship was tilted at an immense angle, but was currently stable, even as its cargo seemed on the verge of toppling. The cause for the problem wasn't obvious but that wasn't of concern right now. A small lifeboat was slowly leaving the vicinity of the vessel, which was a relief. With no life signs onboard they could resort to an abort if the risks were too high. They were primarily a rescue organisation, but in this case it would be detrimental to the environment if they let the cargo fall. If Thunderbird Four could stabilise it enough to allow Alan to get inflator bags attached then they could right it for long enough so the ship could get to the nearest port. The coastguard would sort that out with the help of the original crew.

Scott was relieved as they approached. Thunderbird Four was speedy for an underwater vessel, making the journey in thirty four minutes, but he was used to much, much faster speeds. Gordon slowed on the approach and headed immediately to the yellow blob that was the submarine pod. Alan gave a wave as he passed by. The craft's arms were extended and placed against the metal above the pod. The speed of the turbines increased slowly, and although there was very little improvement in the angle of the ship it meant the current angle could be maintained without Alan.

"You can let go now, Alan."

Scott got there before John, who was currently on the phone to the coast guard trying to ascertain how long it was going to take for them to reach the situation.

"Thanks Scott," Alan chimed cheerily

"Don't forget me! I'm the one doing the hard work."

"Sorry. Thank you Gordon."

"You're welcome."

Gordon grinned. Scott shook his head and let it go. The pair was either winding each other up or plotting something together. This was mild banter and he knew both his siblings were concentrating on their tasks. The smaller pod disappeared from beneath them. Scott tracked Alan's progress on the tablet, his little red dot heading back to the module and hopping across it to grab the large inflator bags from the back. They were going to need four according to John's calculations so he hoped Alan had the sense to drag them all out now so he didn't have to leave the pod again. The red icon eventually whizzed away from the module and towards the indicator on the stern end of the ship before heading straight back to grab the next bag. This one he attached to the bow end. When Alan was safely out the way, Scott selected the bags and activated them simultaneously. The added buoyancy lifted the ship higher in the water, taking Thunderbird Four with it. The video showed a vast improvement in the angle of the cargo and Thunderbird Two's engines were now able to pull the ship to its correct orientation with ease. Gordon released the ship with no adverse effects. He turned and sped towards the floating module. They burst above the surface with great theatre, spray sparkling like diamonds before returning to the sea. The arms that had previously braced against the ship grabbed the last inflator bag and pulled it into the water. They dived heading to the last placement indicator. Gordon waved as they passed Alan, who had been heading back for the last bag. After the bag was installed, Scott activated them and Virgil lowered Thunderbird Two putting slack in the lines. After a minute of stability, the lines were released and withdrawn. Gordon brought them back up to the surface, next to the submarine pod, before heading out the back. Gordon lept onto the module’s door to join a disgruntled looking Alan.

"You took my job!"

"You were taking too long."

"I so wasn't, and you know it."

Scott leapt across the water and joined them on the module's door. The sound of his siblings squabbling flowed over him. It happened frequently post rescue, particularly the less challenging ones where they sometimes stepped on each other's toes. Despite the noise, Scott was happy to see that the pair were in fact working together to get the pod out the water and into the module. Extending his arms above his head, he watched the pair while enjoying the feeling of stretching his legs. He hadn't been on land for four days and his body was itching for a run. The temptation to run circles around the module was sitting at the back of his mind, alongside all the teasing he'd get for doing so. When the pod was loaded the three of them congregated beside it. John had obviously been watching them as he immediately popped up on Scott's wrist and Virgil on Gordon's. Scott sidestepped so Alan could stand between Gordon and himself.

"The coastguard aren't coming, apparently they have something more urgent to deal with." Displeasure tainted the word urgent. "Virgil, the tanker should be able to keep afloat with the buoyancy aids attached, as long as they stick to 10 knots or less. The crew are making their way back to the ship and are aware of this. Considering the time it'll take for them to get to the nearest port it's not worth hanging around and the time saved would be negligible. It should be safe enough to head home and be on alert."

There were nods of agreement from everyone.

"Scott, if you're fed up with being confined with Gordon, I can give you a lift home."

"Hey!" Gordon exclaimed, "I'm not that bad."

"Has he been at the squirty cheese yet? That stuff smells so strong, and it's sticky."

The face Alan pulled was priceless.

"Thanks for the offer, Virgil, but I'm still in need of a little more practice."

"If you're sure, Scott."

"Let him go, Virgil. From the amount of scratches I saw on Thunderbird Four he needs it. He might even beat my record."

Laughter filled the air as every Tracy brother laughed. Scott ruffled Alan's hair as revenge, getting a glare from the teenager. With that he followed Gordon back to Thunderbird Four and jumped aboard. The airlock closed and they headed into the cockpit.

"Fancy getting us back?"

Scott threw his arm over his brother's shoulder and gave him a quick hug.

"How about you get us back while I make us some lunch? Anyway, I need to save myself for those tunnels. I can't embarrass International Rescue by scratching up our submarine on a rescue now, can I?"

Gordon laughed as they separated and slipped down into the driving seat. Scott resisted the urge to mess the man's hair up as he turned to leave. He could survive another four days in a submarine if it meant spending quality time with his brother.

#thunderbirds are go #tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #thunderbird 4 #refresher

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